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REESE  LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 
Class 


OLD    PLANTATION    DAYS 


OLD    PLANTATION 
DAYS 

BEING    RECOLLECTIONS   OF   SOUTHERN 
LIFE   BEFORE   THE   CIVIL  WAR 

BY 
MRS.  N.  B.  DE  SAUSSURE 


NEW    YORK 

DUFFIELD    &    COMPANY 
1909 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY 
N.    B.   DE  SAUSSURE 


THE  TROW  PRESS,  NEW  YORK 


AUTHOR'S   NOTE 

THE  following  reminiscences  are  pub 
lished  at  the  request  of  many  friends  who, 
after  reading  the  manuscript,  have  urged  that 
the  recollections  be  given  more  permanent 
form  and  a  wider  circulation. 

N.     B.     DfiSAUSSURE. 


206395 


OLD    PLANTATION    DAYS 


Old  Plantation  Days 

MY  DEAR  GRANDDAUGHTER  DOROTHY: 

Grandmother  is  growing  to  be  an  old  lady, 
and  as  you  are  still  too  young  to  remember 
all  she  has  told  you  of  her  own  and  your 
mother's  people,  she  is  going  to  write  down 
her  recollections  that  you  may  thus  gain  a 
true  knowledge  of  the  old  plantation  days, 
now  forever  gone,  from  one  whose  life  was 
spent  amid  those  scenes. 

The  South  as  I  knew  it  has  disappeared; 
the  New  South  has  risen  from  its  ashes,  filled 
with  the  energetic  spirit  of  a  new  age.  You 
can  only  know  the  New  South,  but  there  is  a 
generation,  now  passing  away,  which  holds 
in  loving  memory  the  South  as  it  used  to  be. 
9 


Old  Plantation  Days 

Those  memories  are  a  legacy  to  the  new  gen 
eration  from  the  old,  and  it  behooves  the  old 
to  hand  them  down  to  the  new. 

"  The  days  that  are  no  more "  come 
crowding  around  me,  insistent  that  I  interpret 
them  as  I  knew  them;  there  are  the  happy 
plantation  days,  the  recollection  of  which 
causes  my  heart  to  throb  again  with  youthful 
pleasure,  and  near  them  are  the  days,  the 
dreadful  days,  of  war  and  fire  and  famine.  I 
shrink  as  the  memory  of  these  draws  near. 

The  spirit  of  those  early  days  is  what  I 
chiefly  desire  to  leave  with  you ;  the  bare  facts 
are  history,  but  just  as  the  days  come  back  to 
my  recollection  I  will  write  about  them,  and 
necessarily  the  record  will  be  fitful  memories 
woven  together  but  imperfectly. 

My  father,  your  great-grandfather,  was  a 
direct  descendant  on  his  mother's  side  of 
Landgrave  Smith,  first  Colonial  Governor  of 
10 


Old  Plantation  Days 

South  Carolina,  his  mother  being  Landgrave 
Smith's  granddaughter;  his  grandfather  was 
Pierre  Robert,  a  Huguenot  minister  who 
emigrated  to  America,  after  the  revocation 
of  the  edict  of  Nantes,  and  led  the  Huguenot 
colony  to  South  Carolina. 

My  father  was  born  in  1791  in  the  old 
homestead  situated  forty  miles  up  the  river 
from  Savannah.  He  had  twelve  children, 
and  I  was  one  of  the  younger  members  of  his 
large  family.  His  early  life  was  similar  to 
the  life  of  any  present-day  boy,  with  school 
days  and  holidays.  During  the  holidays  he 
enjoyed  the  excellent  hunting  and  fishing 
which  our  large  plantation  afforded  and 
which  gave  him  great  skill  in  those  sports; 
later  in  life  he  brought  up  his  own  sons  to 
enjoy  them  with  him.  He  used  to  tell  us,  to 
our  great  entertainment,  many  incidents  of 
his  childhood  days.  When  a  little  boy  he 
ii 


Old  Plantation  Days 

used  to  drive  through  the  country  with  his 
grandmother  in  a  coach  and  four. 

After  he  left  South  Carolina  College  he 
made  a  trip  through  the  North  on  horseback, 
as  this  was  before  the  time  of  railroads.  It 
took  him  a  month  to  reach  Pennsylvania  and 
New  York  State,  and  as  it  was  in  the  year  of 
1812,  he  happened  to  ride  out  of  Baltimore 
as  the  British  rode  in. 

We  children  were  always  delighted  when 
father  told  us  of  his  many  adventures,  and 
the  strange  sights  he  saw  during  his  travels. 
One  episode  always  greatly  shocked  us,  which 
was  that  of  his  seeing  men  in  the  public  bak 
eries  in  Pennsylvania  mixing  bread  dough 
with  their  bare  feet. 

After  father  returned  home  he  married  a 

cousin,  Miss  Robert.    He  had  one  son  by  this 

marriage,  at  whose  birth  the  young  mother 

died.     This  son  returning  from  a  Northern 

12 


Old  Plantation  Days 

college  on  the  first  steamboat  ever  run  be 
tween  Charleston  and  New  York,  was 
drowned;  for  the  vessel  foundered  and  was 
lost  off  the  coast  of  North  Carolina. 

Father's  second  wife  was  a  descendant  of 
the  Mays  of  Virginia,  who  were  descendants 
of  the  Earl  of  Stafford's  younger  brother. 
This  lady  was  my  own  dear  mother  and  your 
great-grandmother. 

I  must  now  tell  you  something  about  her 
grandmother,  for  my  mother  inherited  much 
of  her  wonderful  character  from  this  stalwart 
Revolutionary  character.  My  great-grand 
mother's  eldest  son,  at  nineteen,  was  a  captain 
in  the  Revolutionary  War,  and  she  was  left 
alone,  a  widow  on  her  plantation.  When  the 
British  made  a  raid  on  her  home,  carrying  off 
everything,  she  remained  undaunted,  and, 
mounting  a  horse,  rode  in  hot  haste  to  where 
the  army  was  stationed,  and  asked  to  see  the 
13 


Old  Plantation  Days 

general  in  command.  Her  persistence  gained 
admittance.  She  stated  her  case  and  the  con 
dition  in  which  the  British  soldiers  had  left 
her  home,  and  pleaded  her  cause  with  so 
much  eloquence  that  the  general  ordered  the 
spoils  returned  to  her. 

Dearest  child,  in  the  intrepid  spirit  of  this 
ancestor  you  will  find  the  keynote  to  the  brave 
spirit  of  the  women  of  the  South. 

This  old  lady,  who  was  your  great-great- 
great-grandmother,  lived  to  be  a  hundred  and 
six  years  old;  her  skin  was  like  parchment  and 
very  wrinkled;  she  died  at  last  from  an  acci 
dent.  I  have  heard  my  mother  say  that  she 
was  a  remarkable  character,  never  idle,  and 
her  mind  perfectly  clear  until  the  day  of  her 
death.  At  her  advanced  age  she  knitted 
socks  for  my  eldest  brother,  a  baby  then,  thus 
always  finding  something  useful  to  employ 
her  mind  and  her  hands. 

14 


Old  Plantation  Days 

Her  son,  my  mother's  father,  was  one  of 
the  most  generous  and  benevolent  of  men,  a 
pioneer  of  Methodism  in  that  section  of  the 
country.  He  had  a  room  in  his  house  called 
"  the  minister's  room."  The  ministers  who 
went  from  place  to  place  preaching  were 
called  circuit  riders.  These  ministers  always 
stayed  at  his  house,  hence  "  the  minister's 
room  "  was  very  seldom  vacant,  and  some 
ministers  lived  with  him  always. 

Once  there  was  a  great  scarcity  of  corn 
caused  by  a  drought.  Grandfather  came  to 
the  rescue  of  the  neighborhood.  He  sent  a 
raft  down  to  Savannah,  which  was  the  near 
est  town,  and  had  brought  back,  at  his  ex 
pense,  two  thousand  bushels  of  corn.  He 
then  sent  out  word  to  the  poor  of  the  sur 
rounding  country  to  come  to  him  for  what 
corn  they  needed,  making  each  applicant  give 
him  a  note  for  what  he  received,  When  he 


Old  Plantation  Days 

had  thus  provided  for  the  immediate  wants 
of  the  people,  he  generously  tore  up  the  notes ; 
for  he  had  only  taken  them  to  prevent  fraud. 

You  will  naturally  wish  me  to  tell  you 
something  of  my  mother,  your  great-grand 
mother.  She  was  born  on  March  25,  1801, 
and  was  educated  at  the  Moravian  School  in 
North  Carolina,  which  is  still  in  existence.  I 
saw  a  very  interesting  description  of  this 
school  in  the  Tribune  of  March,  1904. 

Mother  was  well  educated  in  all  branches 
taught  during  her  girlhood.  Even  after  she 
was  seventy-five  years  old  she  could  repeat 
every  rule  of  grammar  and  she  always  wrote 
with  ease  and  correctness.  This  shows  that 
what  was  taught  in  those  days  was  taught 
with  thoroughness,  even  if  the  studies  were 
few  and  simple  compared  to  the  intricate  and 
manifold  ones  of  the  present  day.  Mother 
was  a  woman  of  remarkable  sweetness  of 
16 


Old  Plantation  Days 

disposition  and  intelligence,  and  had  great 
executive  ability,  which  latter  quality  was  in 
dispensable  in  the  mistress  of  a  large  house 
hold  of  children  and  servants.  She  gave  un 
ceasing  care  and  attention  to  her  children,  and 
personally  supervised  every  detail  of  their 
education.  Besides  these  duties,  the  negroes 
of  the  plantation,  their  food  and  clothing, 
care  of  their  infants  and  the  sick,  all  came 
under  her  control. 

My  father  and  mother  inherited  most  of 
their  negroes,  and  there  was  an  attachment 
existing  between  master  and  mistress  and 
their  slaves  which  one  who  had  never  borne 
such  a  relation  could  never  understand. 

"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  has  set  the  standard 
in  the  North,  and  it  seems  useless  for  those 
who  owned  and  loved  the  negroes  to  say 
there  was  any  other  method  used  in  their 
management  than  that  of  strictest  seventy; 
17 


Old  Plantation  Days 

but  let  me  tell  you  that  in  one  of  my  rare  vis 
its  South  to  my  own  people,  the  old-time 
darkies,  our  former  slaves,  walked  twenty 
miles  to  see  "  Miss  Nancy "  and  her  little 
daughter,  and  the  latter,  your  dear  mother, 
would  often  be  surprised,  when  taken  impul 
sively  in  their  big  black  arms,  and  hugged 
and  kissed  and  cried  over  "  for  ol'  times' 
sake." 

When  I  would  inquire  into  their  welfare 
and  present  condition  I  heard  but  one  refrain, 
14  I'd  never  known  what  it  was  to  suffer  till 
freedom  came,  and  we  lost  our  master." 
Yes,  Dorothy  dear,  a  lot  of  children  unpre 
pared  to  enjoy  the  Emancipation  Proclama 
tion  were  suddenly  confronted  with  life's 
problems. 

I  have  beside  me  a  letter  from  a  friend, 
now  in  South  Africa.  She  says  in  part:  u  I 
am  sure  you,  too,  would  have  thought  much 
18 


Old  Plantation  Days 

on  the  many  problems  presented  by  this  black 
people.  It  is  perfectly  appalling  when  one 
thinks  that  they  are  really  human  beings! 
Human  beings  without  any  humanity,  and 
not  the  slightest  suggestion  that  there  is  any 
vital  spark  on  which  to  begin  work,  for  ap 
parently  they  have  no  affection  for  anybody 
or  anything,  and  it  is  an  insult  to  a  good  dog 
to  compare  them  to  animals." 

Such,  my  dear  child,  is  the  African  in  his 
native  country  at  the  present  day,  the  twen 
tieth  century,  and  such  was  the  imported 
African  before  he  was  Christianized  and  hu 
manized  by  the  people  of  the  South.  In 
order  to  show  you  that  I  am  not  prejudiced 
in  favor  of  the  Southerners'  treatment  of 
their  slaves  I  will  insert  a  letter  from  Dr. 
Edward  Lathrop,  whose  daughter  was  an 
old  schoolmate  of  mine  at  Miss  Bonney's  in 
Philadelphia. 

19 


Old  Plantation  Days 

JULY  23,  1903. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  DE  SAUSSURE  : 

I  will  proceed  to  answer  your  inquiries. 
You  know  I  am  Southern  born  and  raised.  I 
am  a  Georgian,  and  although  never  a  slave 
holder  I  was  nursed  by  a  negro  woman  to 
whom  I  was  most  fondly  attached,  and  who, 
I  believe,  loved  me  as  she  would  her  own  son. 
I  have  had  the  opportunity  to  mingle  freely 
with  slaveholders  of  different  characters  and 
dispositions,  and  while  I  regard  slavery  as 
such  an  enormous  evil  and  am  heartily  glad 
that  it  has  been  abolished  in  this  country,  I 
am  bound  in  candor  to  say  that  my  observa 
tion,  during  all  these  years  of  my  residence 
in  Georgia  and  South  Carolina,  thoroughly 
convinced  me  that  in  the  majority  of  cases 
slaves  were  more  kindly  treated  and  brought 
into  more  intimate  and  kindly  relations  to 
white  families  than  they  are  now,  though 
20 


Old  Plantation  Days 

free.  This,  of  course,  is  not  given  as  an  apol 
ogy  for  slavery,  but  it  is  a  simple  statement 
of  facts.  I  might  refer,  for  example,  to  what 
I  witnessed  and  felt,  while  a  guest,  on  more 
than  one  occasion,  in  the  house  of  your  hon 
ored  father  and  mother.  Your  father  seemed 
to  me  to  be  as  watchful  of  the  interests,  both 
temporal  and  spiritual,  of  his  slaves  as  of  his 
own  immediate  white  family.  It  was,  to  my 
mind,  a  beautiful  illustration  of  patriarchal 
slavery,  as  it  existed  in  the  days  of  Abra 
ham.  Of  course  there  were  exceptions  to 
this  treatment  of  slaves  by  their  owners, 
but,  as  a  rule,  so  far  as  my  observation 
extended,  your  father's  methods  were  uni 
versally  approved,  while  the  cruel  slave 
holder  was  indignantly  condemned  and  re 
pudiated. 

You  may  remember  that  I  was  for  three 
years  the  associate  of  Rev.  Dr.  Fuller,  then 
21 


Old  Plantation  Days 

pastor  of  the  Baptist  Church  in  Beaufort, 
S.  C. 

Beaufort  District  (now  county)  was  prob 
ably  the  largest  slaveholding  district  in  the 
State. 

Most  that  I  have  stated  above,  as  to  the 
kindly  treatment  of  slaves  was  emphatically 
true  of  Beaufort.  The  Baptist  Church,  in 
addition  to  its  white  membership,  embraced 
about  two  thousand  slaves.  These  slaves,  as 
church  members,  enjoyed  equal  privileges 
with  the  whites.  Dr.  Fuller  or  myself 
preached  to  them  every  Sunday.  The  Lord's 
Supper  was  administered  to  them  and  to  the 
whites  impartially  and  at  the  same  time. 
And  any  grievance  that  they  complained  of, 
among  themselves,  was  as  patiently  listened 
to  and  adjusted  as  was  the  case  with  the 
white  members.  In  a  word,  all  that  could  be 
done  for  them,  in  their  circumstances,  was 

22 


Old  Plantation  Days 

promptly  and  cheerfully  done.  I  could  add 
much  more  of  the  same  tenor  to  what  I  have 
written,  but  I  will  not  weary  you  with  a  long 
discourse. 

Affectionately  yours, 

EDWARD  LATHROP. 

To  this  let  me  add  this  editorial  from  the 
New  York  Sun  of  February  i,  1907,  bearing 
on  the  question. 

"  UNCLE  REMUS  ON  THE  NEGRO 

"  We  see  no  occasion  for  the  astonishment 
that  has  been  aroused  in  this  part  of  the  coun 
try  by  the  eloquent  and  touching  tribute  to 
the  negro's  virtues  by  Mr.  Joel  Chandler 
Harris,  of  Georgia.  It  is  by  no  means  the 
first  time  he  has  spoken  to  the  same  effect,  nor 
is  he  the  only  Southerner  of  his  class  who  has 
proclaimed  similar  opinions.  It  ought  to  be 
23 


Old  Plantation  Days 

perfectly  well  known  to  the  entire  country 
that  the  better  class  of  whites  dwell  in  peace 
and  kindness  and  good  will  with  their  col 
ored  fellow-creatures,  and  that  practically 
all  of  the  so-called  *  race  conflicts  '  are  the 
product  of  an  ancient  hate  dating  back  far 
beyond  the  Civil  War  and  involving,  now  as 
always  hitherto,  no  one  of  whom  either  race 
is  at  all  proud. 

'  This  is  a  flagrant  truth  which  Northern 
people  have  had  the  opportunity  of  assimi 
lating  any  time  during  the  past  forty  years. 
The  emancipation  of  the  slaves,  effected  in 
reality  after  the  surrender  of  Lee,  Johnson 
and  Kirby  Smith,  made  no  change  in  the 
purely  personal  relations  between  the  freed- 
men  and  their  former  masters.  Not  even  the 
abominable  episode  of  reconstruction  availed 
to  eradicate  the  affectionate  entente  of  the 
classes  and  turn  them  against  each  other  to 
24 


Old  Plantation  Days 

the  evil  ends  of  animosity  and  vengeance. 
The  old  slaveholders  knew  that  their  quon 
dam  servants  and  dependents  were  innocent 
of  vicious  purpose.  The  latter  understood 
full  well  that  when  in  need  of  help  and  sym 
pathy  and  pitying  ministrations  the  former 
offered  them  their  only  sure  refuge  and  relief. 
No  actor  in  this  mournful  tragedy  has  for 
gotten  anything.  No  political  or  social  trans 
mutation  has  changed  anything  so  far  as  these 
two  are  concerned.  The  quarrels  and  the 
violent  and  bloody  clashes  of  which  so  much 
is  made  in  our  newspapers,  whether  through 
honest  ignorance  or  malign  intent,  are  far 
outside  of  the  philosophy  of  any  important 
element  of  the  Southern  population. 

"  Joel  Chandler  Harris  tells  the  simple  truth 

when  he  says  that  the  negroes  of  the  South 

are  moving  onward,  accumulating  property, 

making   themselves    useful    citizens    and    ce- 

25 


Old  Plantation  Days 

menting  the  hallowed  ties  of  respect  and  con 
fidence  between  the  classes  which  represent 
the  South's  righteousness  and  civilization.  In 
this  section  we  concern  ourselves  too  much 
with  the  insignificant  minority.  We  accept 
the  testimony  of  the  '  educated  '  few  on  the 
negro  side — educated  to  little  more  than  a 
fruitless  smattering  of  vanity  and  conceit — 
and  we  much  too  easily  imagine  that  the 
Southern  *  cracker '  stands  for  the  ideas  and 
illustrates  the  methods  of  the  whites.  No 
falser  or  more  misleading  hypothesis  could 
be  presented.  The  negro  who  typifies  vio 
lence  and  barbarism  is  one  in  ten  thousand. 
The  white  man  who  employs  the  shotgun  and 
the  torch  is  quite  as  unimportant.  We  shower 
our  solicitudes  on  the  pestiferous  exception 
and  overlook  the  wholesome  rule. 

"  Uncle  Remus  knows  what  he  is  talking 
about — knows  it  to  its  deepest  depth." 
26 


Old  Plantation  Days 

I  think  if  I  were  to  give  you  an  account  of 
one  day  as  spent  by  my  mother,  it  would  best 
present  an  idea  of  the  arduous  duties  of  an 
old-time  Southern  lady  on  a  plantation.  My 
mother  had  a  magnificent  constitution  or  she 
could  never  have  accomplished  the  amount 
of  work  required  of  her.  I  never  knew  her 
to  have  until  her  latter  years  a  physician  for 
herself.  But  for  family  needs  we  had  col 
ored  nurses  who,  under  a  physician,  were 
competent  and  devoted  in  sickness. 

The  day  was  always  begun  with  family 
prayers,  for  my  father's  religious  principles 
were  his  staff  in  life,  and  he  derived  much 
strength  from  them.  His  devotion  to  Christ 
was  unusual,  and  I  never  knew  him  to  doubt 
for  an  instant  that  he  himself  was  a  child  of 
God.  Having  a  most  affectionate  disposi 
tion,  he  loved  his  wife  and  children  intensely, 
and  lived  in  and  for  them.  Fortunately,  the 
27 


Old  Plantation  Days 

love  he  gave  them  was  fully  returned,  and  I 
doubt  if  there  was  ever  a  more  devoted  and 
united  family. 

At  sunset  it  was  a  sacred  custom  of  his  to 
go  into  a  room  in  a  wing  of  the  house,  re 
moved  from  all  noise,  and  kneel  in  prayer. 
Every  child  and  grandchild  would  follow  him 
to  the  quiet  room,  and  as  we  knelt  by  his  side, 
he  would  commend  us  to  God's  loving  care, 
and  rise  from  his  knees  to  kiss  each  one  of  us, 
sons  and  daughters  alike.  No  matter  what 
our  occupation  or  pleasures  were,  we  would 
hasten  home  that  we  might  not  miss  this  sun 
set  prayer,  for  then  all  differences  that  had 
grown  up  between  us  in  the  day  would  be 
healed,  and  we  felt  ourselves  drawn  into  one 
united  family  again.  My  brothers  and  sis 
ters,  old  men  and  women  now,  can  never 
speak  of  that  sacred  hour  without  tears. 

I  will  here  copy  a  letter  received  not  long 
28 


Old  Plantation  Days 

ago  from  a  dear  friend,  Miss  Morse,  for 
years  one  of  the  faculty  of  Vassar  College, 
that  you  may  see  how  our  home  life  affected 
"  strangers  within  our  gates." 

MY  PRECIOUS  FRIEND: 

In  asking  me  to  give  you  my  recollec 
tions  of  that  cultivated  consecrated  home 
where  I  spent  a  delightful  half  year,  you 
have  given  me  a  privilege.  I  love  to  recall 
that  period,  so  unique  in  my  experience. 

Your  father  had  arranged  for  my  jour 
ney.  A  son  came  from  Princeton  to  go  with 
me  to  the  steamer,  and  at  Savannah  his  fac 
tor  placed  me  in  your  father's  boat,  going  up 
the  river  by  night,  to  his  plantation  home. 

This  was  my  first  acquaintance  with  ne 
groes.  At  first  I  was  afraid,  being  the  only 
white  person  on  board,  but  as  I  remembered 
that  it  was  your  father's  plan,  I  knew  it  must 
29 


Old  Plantation  Days 

be  safe,  and  gave  myself  up  to  the  enjoyment 
of  the  scene.  A  happier  set  of  beings  than 
the  negroes  on  board  it  would  be  hard  to  find. 

The  night  was  dark,  but  on  deck  they  gath 
ered  in  groups  about  their  bright  fires,  roast 
ing  corn  and  singing  their  quaint  and  wonder 
fully  sweet  plantation  songs. 

At  daybreak  we  reached  your  father's 
landing,  where  you  were  waiting  for  me  in 
the  carriage,  and  when  we  drove  up  to  the 
beautiful  home,  there  were  your  parents  at 
the  door,  ready  to  give  me  a  truly  Southern 
welcome. 

Breakfast  was  served,  and  as  your  father 
asked  the  blessing,  he  prayed  most  earnestly 
that  old  Maum  Mary  might  be  found  that 
day;  every  day  the  prayer  was  repeated,  till 
he  felt  she  could  not  be  living,  and  then  it 
was  changed  to  a  request  that  they  might  find 
her  body  to  give  it  burial.  She  was  an  old 
30 


Old  Plantation  Days 

negress,  who  had  lost  her  mind,  and,  fearing 
she  might  stray  away  and  get  lost,  your 
father  had  placed  her  daughter-in-law,  a 
bright  young  negress,  in  the  house  with  her, 
to  care  for  her  and  specially  to  watch,  lest  in 
her  mental  weakness  she  might  stray  away; 
what  he  feared  happened,  for  the  daugh 
ter-in-law  proved  less  tender  and  faithful 
than  the  master,  and  the  old  woman  es 
caped. 

When  all  hope  of  finding  her  alive  was 
gone,  the  prayer  of  the  master  was  that  they 
might  find  her  body  and  give  it  burial,  but 
even  this  was  not  granted  him. 

It  was  a  revelation  to  me  of  the  tender  care 
that  old  patriarch  gave  to  his  slaves,  no  won 
der  that  they  loved  him. 

You  used  to  ask  me,  almost  daily,  to  go 
with  you  to  see  some  feeble  old  woman,  who 
might  be  lonely  and  would  be  looking  for  you 
31 


Old  Plantation  Days 

to  come  and  see  her,  and  I  could  hardly  help 
shrinking  as  you  would  allow  yourself  to  be 
gathered  into  her  arms,  and  the  petting 
would  be  mutual. 

If  a  negro  was  sick,  your  father  would 
always  send  him  food  from  his  own  table, 
which  was  received  with  great  pleasure. 

At  the  time  I  was  there  your  mother  had 
become  too  feeble  to  continue  her  daily 
rounds  among  the  sick  and  feeble,  taking 
medicine,  looking  after  bandages  on  broken 
limbs,  etc.,  but  an  older  daughter  had  taken 
her  place  to  some  extent. 

I  enjoyed  very  much  the  prayer-meeting 
evenings  of  the  negroes.  The  Methodists 
had  one  evening  and  the  Baptists  another. 
They  always  held  them  in  a  building  espe 
cially  made  for  that  purpose,  and  the  singing, 
as  it  came  through  our  open  windows,  was 
very  sweet.  Your  father  had  to  limit  the 

3* 


Old  Plantation  Days 

time  or  they  would  have  continued  the  serv 
ices  all  night. 

On  Sunday  they  attended  the  same 
churches  as  the  family,  the  galleries  being 
reserved  for  them.  I  might  have  added  in 
telling  of  their  prayer  meeting,  that  when  we 
were  present  they  always  prayed  for  "  Ole 
Massa  and  Missus,"  and  the  various  mem 
bers  of  the  family,  including  the  "  young 
Missus  from  the  North." 

The  little  negro  children  would  leave  their 
play  to  gather  around  me  as  they  saw  me 
walking  about  the  grounds. 

As  I  recall  a  day  in  that  home,  so  filled 
with  love  and  peace,  I  think  of  the  morning 
and  evening  prayers  where  the  dear  old  patri 
arch  seemed  to  be  talking  to  a  friend  whom 
he  trusted  and  loved. 

Every  morning  his  horse  was  brought  to 
the  door  for  him  to  ride  over  the  plantation. 
33 


Old  Plantation  Days 

His  daughter  Nannie  never  failed  to  be  there 
to  help  him  on  with  his  coat,  and  at  his  return 
to  take  off  his  wraps,  bring  him  his  dressing- 
gown,  and  cover  him  as  he  lay  down  to 
rest. 

In  fact,  from  morning  till  night  she 
seemed  always  to  have  him  in  her  thoughts, 
to  anticipate  every  wish,  and  give  him  most 
devoted  attention.  I  am  sure  it  must  always 
be  a  sweet  memory  to  her  that  she  never 
overlooked  a  possible  opportunity  of  add 
ing  to  his  happiness.  Few  fathers  re 
ceive  such  devoted  attention  from  their 
children. 

Do  you  remember  how  I  used  to  enjoy  the 
blaze  of  the  pine  knots  in  the  fireplace  in 
your  room  at  night,  and  how,  as  they  burned 
out,  you  would  say  to  Susan,  your  maid, 
"  Now  throw  on  another  knot  for  Miss 
Morse  ?  "  And  do  you  remember  how  I 
34 


Old  Plantation  Days 

used  to  ride  about  alone  on  your  pet 
horse  ? 

Oh,  what  a  happy  winter  that  was!  The 
whole  atmosphere  was  one  of  love — love  be 
tween  parents  and  children,  and  love  that 
overflowed  till  it  seemed  to  me  that  every  ne 
gro  on  the  place  must  feel  the  effects  of  it. 
Certainly  every  sick  or  aged  one  received 
tenderest  care. 

I  remember  your  mother,  in  telling  me  of 
her  heavy  duties  in  caring  for  so  large  a  fam 
ily,  mentioned  an  instance  in  which  she  had 
to  go  every  day  to  dress  a  broken  arm  of  a 
negro  child,  because  the  mother  was  too  indo 
lent  to  attend  to  it. 

On  Sundays  your  mother  and  her  daugh 
ters  used  to  go  around  to  the  negroes'  houses 
to  read  the  Bible,  and  teach  the  children 
Bible  verses. 

I  hope  that  the  reading  of  these  memories 

35 


Old  Plantation  Days 

will  recall  to  you  something  of  the  sweetness 
of  that  dear  home,  consecrated  by  your  par 
ents'  prayers. 

Lovingly, 

Your  "  MORSIE." 

This  has  been  a  long  digression  from  the 
one  day  in  my  mother's  life  I  promised  to 
depict  for  you,  but  those  early  scenes  come 
into  my  mind  so  fast  that  the  letter  from  my 
dear  friend  telling  of  them  seemed  most  ap 
propriately  to  come  into  the  story  just  at  that 
point.  But  to  return — after  breakfast  it 
was  customary  for  the  head  nurse  to  report 
any  cases  of  sickness  on  the  plantation  to 
my  mother.  Mother's  medicine  chest  was 
brought  out  and  together  they  consulted 
about  the  condition  of  each  patient.  If  any 
one  were  very  ill,  a  man  was  sent  to  call  in 
a  physician  who  lived  several  miles  away. 

36 


Old  Plantation  Days 

My  mother  then  hastened  to  the  negro  quar 
ters,  and  if  the  invalids  could  be  removed 
they  were  brought  to  the  sick  house — a  large, 
long  building  fitted  with  cots — where  they 
could  be  better  cared  for. 

One  of  my  earliest  recollections  was  to 
follow  mother  with  my  brothers  and  sisters, 
each  child  carrying  a  plate  filled  with  food 
from  the  table  for  the  convalescents,  and,  al 
though  at  this  day  contagious  diseases  are  so 
carefully  avoided,  I  can  remember  going 
fearlessly  in  and  out  of  the  cabins,  carrying 
dainty  dishes  to  many  little  ones  who  were 
suffering  with  what  they  then  called  putrid 
sore  throat.  It  was  really  diphtheria,  and, 
strange  to  say,  not  one  of  our  family  took  the 
disease,  though  there  were  forty  cases  on  the 
plantation.  They  were  taken  to  the  pine 
land,  so  that  the  good  air  might  aid  their  re 
covery. 

37 


Old  Plantation  Days 

After  attending  the  sick,  mother's  next 
duty  was  to  give  out  the  daily  provisions. 
She  made  a  pretty  picture  in  her  quaint  gown 
carrying  a  basket  of  keys  on  her  arm.  The 
Bible  verse,  "  She  looketh  well  to  the  ways 
of  her  household,  and  eateth  not  the  bread  of 
idleness,"  could  well  have  been  written  of 
her.  With  twenty-five  house  and  garden 
servants  and  the  many  little  children  to  be 
looked  after,  this  daily  provisioning  took  a 
great  deal  of  time,  and  thought. 

The  house  servants  had  their  own  kitchen 
and  cook.  The  negro  children  were  under 
the  care  of  a  woman  in  a  building  apart,  in 
fact,  it  was  like  a  modern  day  nursery,  where 
the  working  mothers  could  leave  their  chil 
dren  in  safety.  The  older  children  about  the 
place  helped  in  the  care  of  the  little  ones. 
Mothers  with  babies  were  only  required  to 
do  light  work,  such  as  raking  leaves,  spin- 

38 


Old  Plantation  Days 

ning,  or  sewing,  that  they  might  be  ready 
and  in  condition  to  nurse  their  babies. 

I  can  remember  going  to  this  nursery  with 
mother  frequently,  for  she  always  wanted  to 
know  that  the  children's  food  was  properly 
prepared.  They  had  vegetable  soups  with 
corn  meal  "  dodgers "  or  dumplings,  of 
which  they  were  very  fond.  Sometimes  corn 
bread  in  place  of  these,  and  as  much  hominy 
and  sweet  potatoes  as  they  wanted. 

Father  had  hundreds  of  cattle,  cows, 
sheep,  and  hogs.  We  milked  sixty  cows  on 
the  plantation,  and  all  the  milk  which  had 
been  set  and  skimmed  was  given  to  the  ne 
groes  who  came  to  the  dairy  to  carry  it  to 
their  homes  in  great  tubs,  and  the  little  ones 
trotted  along  carrying  their  "  piggins," 
which  was  the  name  for  their  small  wooden 
buckets.  The  milk  which  had  turned  to 
clabber,  "  bonny  clabber  "  as  the  Scotch  call 
39 


Old  Plantation  Days 

it,  was  considered  a  most  delightful  dish  in 
our  hot  climate.  It  is  so  refreshing  when 
cold  that  you  often  see  me  eating  it  now  for 
tea. 

Mother's  vegetable  gardens  were  then  vis 
ited.  These  gardens  were  noted;  they  were 
so  unusual  in  their  beautiful  arrangement 
that  all  strangers  who  came  to  the  neighbor 
hood  were  brought  to  see  them.  The  walks 
were  graveled  and  rolled,  and  myriads  of 
bright  flowers  formed  borders  for  the  beds. 

The  poultry  yards  required  supervision 
and  care  and  were  kept  in  perfect  order. 
There  were  many  acres,  so-called  "  runs," 
planted  in  rye  and  other  grains,  for  the  use 
of  the  poultry,  where  they  roved  at  will  with 
some  one  to  follow  and  bring  them  back  to 
the  yards  at  night,  to  be  locked  up.  I  often 
used  to  hear  mother  say  "  five  hundred  chick 
ens,  one  hundred  geese,  one  hundred  turkeys, 
40 


Old  Plantation  Days 

and  one  hundred  ducks,  were  necessary  to  be 
kept  on  hand  for  table  use." 

Another  care  of  hers  was  to  provide  cloth 
ing  for  all  the  negroes,  of  whom  there  were 
over  five  hundred.  To  accomplish  this,  seam 
stresses  were  at  work  all  the  year  round; 
three  in  the  house  and  five  or  six  in  the  negro 
quarters.  These  made  the  men's  and  wom 
en's  clothing.  All  the  cutting  was  done 
under  mother's  supervision;  and  during  the 
early  part  of  the  war,  all  the  spinning  and 
weaving  of  cloth,  and  even  of  blankets,  was 
done  on  the  plantation.  At  one  time  I  re 
member  seeing  two  thousand  yards  of  cloth 
ready  to  make  up  into  clothes.  Fifteen  years 
after  the  war,  on  my  visit  South,  I  saw  the 
negro  women  still  wearing  some  of  the 
dresses  which  were  woven  at  that  time.  The 
cloth  went  by  the  name  of  "  homespun."  I 
am  giving  you  a  rather  minute  account,  be- 


Old  Plantation  Days 

cause  I  want  you,  my  darling,  to  gain  as  inti 
mate  a  knowledge  as  possible  of  that  life 
which  has  forever  passed  away. 

I  remember  seeing  my  mother  come  into 
the  house  from  her  morning  rounds,  tired, 
but  cheered  with  the  consciousness  that  no 
duty  had  been  neglected. 

You  will  wonder  how  she  found  any  time 
to  give  to  her  children;  but  we  were  busy  in 
school  all  those  hours.  We  had  a  school- 
house  on  the  plantation  where  we  went  after 
breakfast  with  our  governess.  In  those  days, 
as  teachers  were  not  paid  well  for  their  serv 
ices,  it  was  difficult  to  find  refined  and  cul 
tured  people  to  fill  the  position.  Knowing 
this,  father  paid  the  highest  salaries  and  thus 
secured  the  best  talent  there  was  to  be  had  for 
us.  One  of  our  teachers  afterwards  opened 
a  school  in  Philadelphia,  and  another  held  an 
important  position  at  Vassar  College. 
42 


Old  Plantation  Days 

Besides  a  governess,  we  also  had  a  music 
teacher,  so  we  were  expected  to  devote  many 
hours  to  practicing  music,  and  thus  we  were 
employed  while  mother  was  busy  house 
keeping. 

The  governesses  were  always  astonished 
at  the  wonderful  energy  and  ability  shown  by 
my  mother  in  managing  her  household.  I 
have  heard  them  say  that  if  Northern  people 
could  only  view  a  Southern  woman's  daily 
life,  how  impressed  they  would  be. 

As  soon  as  the  girls  in  our  family  were  old 
enough  they  were  sent  North  to  school  to  fin 
ish  their  education,  and  the  boys  were  sent  to 
Northern  colleges. 

I  went  for  a  time  to  a  boarding  school  near 
Columbia,  at  the  early  age  of  twelve,  and 
at  fifteen  went  North  with  my  sister,  your 
great-aunt  Catherine  Robert.  Father  ob 
jected  to  my  leaving  home  again,  as  he 
43 


Old  Plantation  Days 

wanted  me  near  him,  but  mother  said  educa 
tion  was  all  important,  and  the  personal  sac 
rifice  had  to  be  made.  In  my  seventeenth 
year,  I  again  went  North  with  three  brothers 
and  a  sister,  thus  making  five  of  us  studying 
at  Princeton  and  at  Philadelphia. 

My  parents  were  left  alone,  and  out  of 
their  brood  of  twelve  not  one  remained  in  the 
home  nest,  as  six  elder  ones  had  married,  and 
one  other  was  dead.  Father  said  he  missed 
us  so  terribly  that  he  felt  as  if  he  could  not 
live  without  one  of  us  with  him.  I  returned, 
therefore,  and  remained  with  my  parents  until 
I  was  married.  This  long  residence  at  home 
will  account  for  my  knowledge  of  everything 
concerning  the  dear  father  and  mother,  who 
were  so  devoted  to  their  children. 

Right  here,  speaking  of  my  boarding- 
school  days  at  Columbia,  I  must  tell  you 
about  my  pet  deer.  It  is  another  digression, 

44 


Old  Plantation  Days 

dear  child,  but  I  would  like  you  to  know 
about  the  pet  I  thought  so  much  of,  and  who 
so  dearly  loved  me. 

Our  plantation  was,  and  still  is,  famed 
for  game  of  all  kinds,  particularly  deer.  For 
many  miles  there  were  hunting  grounds,  now 
owned  by  Northern  men,  who  have  learned 
how  full  of  game  that  section  of  South  Car 
olina  is. 

As  a  child  I  was  especially  fond  of  pets, 
and  knowing  this,  my  friends  often  gave  me 
birds,  or  animals,  to  which  I  was  very  de 
voted.  One  day  there  came  to  me  in  this  way 
a  young  fawn,  which  had  been  caught  by  ne 
groes.  So  young  was  this  gentle  little  crea 
ture  that  I  had  to  feed  it  from  a  bottle.  I 
spent  most  of  my  time  with  it  out  of  doors, 
and  it  became  very  much  attached  to  me. 
My  mother  was  always  very  particular  about 
the  complexion  of  her  children,  as  most 
45 


Old  Plantation  Days 

Southern  little  girls  are  apt  to  become  much 
freckled  by  the  hot  sun.  So  we  were  all 
obliged  to  wear  sunbonnets,  and  I  can  see 
this  little  deer  now  running  along  beside  me, 
with  the  sunbonnet  I  should  have  been  wear 
ing  tied  on  its  head. 

As  the  fawn  grew  older  it  still  remained 
so  gentle  that  it  would  go  into  the  house  with 
me  and  follow  me  upstairs  and  lie  down  by 
the  bed.  As  the  autumn  approached  and 
the  evenings  grew  cold,  it  would  come  into 
the  house  and  lie  down  before  the  open  fire 
just  as  a  dog  would  do.  Our  dogs  never  dis 
turbed  it  by  day,  but  we  were  afraid  to  trust 
them  at  night,  so  Willie,  for  that  was  my 
pet's  name,  was  always  locked  up  in  a  little 
house  we  had  for  her.  When  she  was  three 
months  old  I  went  to  boarding  school,  and 
was  gone  nine  months.  It  nearly  broke  my 
heart  to  leave  Willie,  but  my  father,  and  in 


Old  Plantation  Days 

fact,  everyone  promised  to  take  good  care 
of  her,  and  let  nothing  happen  to  her.  Reg 
ularly  I  heard  from  her  through  them  until 
near  the  time  for  my  return,  when  the  home 
letter  ceased  to  speak  of  her. 

I  looked  forward  to  my  home-coming  with 
great  delight,  and  my  first  question  when  I 
arrived  was  concerning  Willie.  It  was  then 
I  learned  that  she  had  gone  to  the  swamps 
and  had  frequently  been  seen  with  other  deer. 
Occasionally  she  had  revisited  her  adopted 
home,  so  they  told  me,  coming  in  and  out 
past  the  dogs,  not  seeming  to  be  at  all  afraid 
of  them.  My  father  suggested  that  I  should 
go  with  him  into  the  fields  where  she  had 
been  most  frequently  seen  feeding  with  a 
number  of  deer,  and  see  if  we  could  obtain  a 
glimpse  of  her. 

Mounted  on  our  favorite  horses,  we  started 
off  and  rode  through  the  open  country.  We 
47 


Old  Plantation  Days 

had  gone  but  a  couple  of  miles  when  my 
father  pointed  in  the  distance  to  a  group  of 
his  negroes,  who  were  working  in  a  field, 
saying  that  Willie  was  likely  to  be  found 
near  them,  for  he  had  seen  her,  at  intervals, 
feeding  with  other  deer  in  that  vicinity.  He 
noticed  then  that  she  would  leave  her  com 
panions,  and  approach  the  negroes,  but  would 
not  allow  them  to  touch  her.  We  stopped 
our  horses  and  looked  around  over  the  lovely 
country.  Suddenly  my  father  exclaimed, 
"  Look,  Nannie,  look !  "  pointing  toward 
the  west.  Standing  before  the  setting  sun, 
their  graceful  forms  clearly  outlined,  were 
five  or  six  deer. 

We  approached  cautiously,  not  wishing  to 
frighten  them.  At  last  I  dismounted  and  as 
I  ventured  nearer,  I  saw  the  deer  lift  up  their 
startled  heads,  and  heard  the  faint  tinkle  of 
Willie's  bell;  for  I  had  placed  a  heavy  leather 


Old  Plantation  Days 

strap  with  a  bell  around  her  neck,  to  protect 
her  against  the  hunters,  as  no  one  would 
knowingly  kill  a  pet  deer. 

Father  cried  out  to  me,  "  Call  her  by  name, 
as  you  used  to  do."  I  called,  "  Willie,  Wil 
lie."  At  the  sound  of  my  voice  the  beautiful 
little  creature  lifted  her  head  and  stood  still 
and  listened,  while  the  other  deer  fled; 
then  evidently  impelled  by  recollection,  she 
bounded  toward  me.  I  wish  I  could  picture 
the  scene  to  you,  Dorothy,  and  do  justice  to 
it.  If  anyone  has  ever  seen  a  deer  in  full 
motion,  he  could  never  forget  it.  She  came 
bounding  toward  me  over  the  high  furrows, 
her  feet  scarcely  touching  the  ground.  I  ran 
forward  to  meet  her,  and  threw  my  arms 
around  her  neck.  The  joy  she  manifested 
amazed  my  father.  She  rubbed  her  face  all 
over  my  face  and  neck,  and  tried  to  show  me 
in  every  way  her  delight  in  being  with  me 
49 


Old  Plantation  Days 

again.  I  remained  in  the  field  petting  her 
until  nearly  dark,  when  my  father  urged  the 
necessity  of  our  returning  home.  I  bade  her 
farewell  for  I  had  no  thought  that  she  would 
follow  me,  but  after  mounting  my  horse,  she 
trotted  along  by  my  side  just  as  a  dog  would 
do.  At  the  entrance  to  our  place  was  a  high 
fence  with  eleven  bars.  As  my  father  opened 
the  gate  for  me  to  pass  through,  he  quickly 
shut  it  against  Willie,  saying  he  wanted  to 
see  what  she  would  do  with  such  a  barrier 
between  us.  Nothing  daunted  she  immedi 
ately  bounded  over  the  fence,  which  was  a 
remarkable  jump  for  any  animal,  and  fol 
lowed  us  up  to  the  house.  When  I  dismounted 
she  followed  me  into  the  yard,  passing  fear 
lessly  among  the  hunting  dogs. 

She  remained  at  home  with  me  as  long  as 
my  vacation  lasted,  and  became  as  docile  and 
gentle  as  she  was  before,   not  making  any 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

effort  to  return  to  her  wild  life.  After  my 
vacation  was  over  and  I  returned  to  school, 
she  went  back  to  the  woods  and  spent  the 
winter  there.  In  the  spring  on  my  return,  I 
was  frequently  told  by  the  hunters  that 
they  had  seen  her  with  her  fawns.  She 
was  known  throughout  the  entire  section, 
and  being  belled  all  could  avoid  shooting 
her. 

One  day  I  was  driving  to  church  and  saw 
her  on  the  edge  of  the  deep  woods  with  her 
two  beautiful  fawns.  I  ordered  the  driver 
to  stop  quickly,  and  jumped  out  of  the  car 
riage,  running  toward  her  and  calling  her 
by  her  name.  She  stood  as  if  she  remem 
bered  my  voice,  but  her  fawns  fled  in  terror 
and  she  went  bounding  after  them.  That 
was  the  last  time  I  ever  saw  her  for  she  died 
of  black  tongue.  A  hunter  found  her  in  the 
woods,  unstrapped  her  bell  and  brought  it  to 

51 


Old  Plantation  Days 

me,  and  I  kept  it  for  years,  until  in  the  war 
it  was  lost  with  everything  else. 

But  to  return  to  the  plantation  life.  This 
life  has  been  written  of  by  many  authors, 
and  "  Southern  hospitality  "  is  proverbial,  so 
you  will  not  be  surprised  at  my  description 
of  our  way  of  living.  English  people  who 
visited  us  said  it  was  like  the  English  country 
life.  We  kept  u  open  house";  everybody 
was  welcome,  and  our  many  horses  were  at 
the  disposal  of  the  guest.  My  father's  sta 
bles  held  thirty  horses,  many  of  them  work 
animals,  of  course,  but  among  them  were  fine 
saddle  horses,  always  ready  for  the  use  of  our 
friends. 

Often  our  stables  were  emptied  of  their 
occupants  to  make  room  for  "  company 
horses,"  that  is,  those  brought  by  our  friends 
when  they  came  to  visit  us. 

Near  our  house  there  was  a  two-story  build- 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

ing  built  for  the  accommodation  of  gentle 
men,  strangers.  As  there  were  no  inns  in  our 
country,  and  plantations  were  miles  apart, 
some  provision  had  to  be  made  for  the  enter 
tainment  of  travelers,  who  were  never  turned 
away.  We  often  had  delightful  house 
parties  and  hunting  parties,  but  our  chief 
enjoyment  was  riding  through  the  wild  and 
beautiful  country.  We  also  went  on  fishing 
excursions,  and  on  picnics.  We  thought 
nothing  of  driving  ten  miles  to  dine  at  a 
neighbor's  house. 

Gentlemen  visiting,  brought  their  valets 
and  dogs  for  hunting,  and  young  ladies  came 
with  their  own  maids.  It  was  a  delightful 
open-hearted,  open-handed  way  of  living,  my 
child,  but  it  was  brought  to  an  abrupt  end,  as 
you  will  hear. 

Fortunately  my  mother  had  a  fine  house 
keeper  who  relieved  her  of  the  care  of  the 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

culinary  department.  This  housekeeper  was 
famed  as  a  cook,  and  her  table  is  still  remem 
bered  by  everyone  who  sat  around  it. 

Perhaps  it  would  be  interesting  just  here  to 
explain  how  we  came  to  have  so  competent  a 
person  in  the  house.  During  my  father's 
early  married  life  preparations  were  made  to 
build  a  church  in  the  neighborhood,  (Robert- 
ville)  called  after  the  family.  A  contractor 
was  engaged  from  the  North  to  build  the 
church.  He  brought  workmen  with  him, 
and  among  them  was  a  carpenter  belonging 
to  a  better  class  of  Irish  than  was  usually 
found  in  such  a  trade.  He  brought  his  wife 
and  three  children  with  him,  and  during  the 
summer  contracted  a  violent  fever.  Father 
always  thought  it  his  duty  to  visit  all  the  sick 
in  the  neighborhood;  therefore,  he  saw  him 
frequently,  caring  for  his  needs.  When  the 
poor  man  found  that  he  could  not  live,  he 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

asked  my  father  to  provide  for  his  wife  and 
children,  which  my  father  consented  to  do. 
He  kept  his  promise,  and  after  the  husband's 
death,  took  the  three  little  ones  home  with 
their  mother,  and  made  them  comfortable  in 
one  of  the  many  outbuildings  always  found 
on  a  Southern  plantation.  In  a  few  weeks 
the  mother  gave  birth  to  a  little  girl  and  died, 
leaving  the  four  little  orphans  in  my  father's 
care.  Father  wished  to  adopt  them  all,  but 
my  mother,  with  her  usual  good  judgment, 
said  she  was  willing  to  have  the  care  of  them, 
but  would  not  consent  to  adopting  them,  as 
she  did  not  think  it  well  to  have  children  of 
another  nationality  brought  up  as  our  sisters 
and  brothers. 

Eventually  three  of  these  little  people  were 

adopted  by  those  who  had  no  children,  and 

one  remained  with  us.     This  little  girl,  Mar- 

gian  Kane,  was  sent  to  school,  but  when  old 

55 


Old  Plantation  Days 

enough  to  go  into  higher  studies  refused 
further  schooling,  to  learn  the  art  of  house 
keeping  from  my  mother.  She  died  only  two 
years  ago,  living  to  be  eighty-four  years  old. 
Our  family  took  care  of  her  until  her  death. 
She  was  devoted  to  my  father,  and  always 
remembered  him  with  gratitude. 

I  love  to  linger  over  those  happy,  free- 
from-care  days  when  our  hospitable  door,  al 
ways  open,  brought  so  many  interesting  peo 
ple  among  us,  but  I  must  push  on  to  graver 
matters. 

I  devoted  much  of  my  time  to  music, 
especially  to  the  harp  which  was  my  favorite 
instrument.  Although  I  had  several  masters 
in  music  during  the  years  I  was  at  home,  I 
often  went  to  Charleston  to  take  extra  lessons. 
While  in  Charleston  I  met  your  grandfather, 
Henry  William  De  Saussure,  who  was  a 
descendant  of  the  Huguenot  family  of  that 

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Old  Plantation  Days 

name,  and  a  grandson  of  Chancellor  Henry 
William  De  Saussure. 

We  were  married  at  home  in  1859.  I 
have  been  fortunate  in  procuring  a  copy  of 
the  wedding  article  which  appeared  in  the 
Charleston  paper,  the  Mercury t  1859,  which 
is  still  on  file  in  the  library  there.  The  copy 
is  as  follows: 

"On  the  4th  inst.  at  Robertville  church, 
Beaufort  District,  by  the  Rev.  J.  M.  Bostick, 
Dr.  H.  W.  De  Saussure,  Jr.,  to  Miss  Nannie 
W.,  daughter  of  B.  R.  Bostick,  Esq. 

For  THE  MERCURY 
THE  WEDDING  BREAKFAST 

The  Daylight  Scene.     The  Marriage  Cere 
mony.     The  Surprise.     The  Parting. 

"  The  bright  stars  had  not  all  disappeared 
on  the  morning  of  the  4th  inst.,  when  the 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

sexton  of  the  Robertville  church  com 
menced  opening  the  same.  The  early  hour, 
the  studied  neatness  of  his  dress,  and  his 
hurried  manner,  all  indicated  that  something 
unusual  was  about  to  occur.  He  had  not  yet 
completed  his  work,  when  carriages  and  bug 
gies  in  quick  succession  were  rapidly  driven 
up  to  the  church  from  various  directions. 
The  sun  had  just  risen  in  unusual  splendor 
as  if  more  fully  to  witness  the  vows  that  were 
appointed  to  be  taken  at  his  appearing,  and 
the  company  scarcely  collected,  when  your  for 
tunate  townsman  led  to  the  altar  Miss 

— .  By  the  altar  was  seated  a  young  man, 
who  like  themselves,  had  just  entered  the 
threshold  of  life.  His  countenance,  how 
ever,  would  induce  the  belief  that  he  was 
accustomed  to  serious  reflection.  And  one 
from  his  appearance  pronounced  him  a  min 
ister.  He  rises,  his  voice  falters  not,  but 

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Old  Plantation  Days 

betokens  a  deep  and  heartfelt  emotion,  and 
how  could  it  be  otherwise,  for  he  is  joining 
in  holy  wedlock  his  sister,  the  playmate  of 
his  childhood  hours — the  object  in  later  years 
of  his  tender  solicitude  and  prayers.  And 
really  did  it  seem  that  he  would  have  given 
worlds  to  insure  for  that  couple  the  happiness 
he  so  devoutly  implored  of  Heaven. 

"  But  the  marriage  ceremony  is  ended,  con 
gratulations  of  friends  over;  and  again  start 
out  a  number  of  the  happy  company  with  the 
bride  and  groom. 

"  The  village  is  left  but  a  short  distance, 
when  our  road  gradually  descended  into  a 
wood  too  damp  for  cultivation,  but  so  fertile 
as  to  grow  huge  live  oak  trees,  which  formed 
with  their  boughs,  well-nigh  a  continuous 
arch  over  us,  from  which,  in  most  beautiful 
clusters  almost,  but  not  quite  in  one's  reach, 
hung  the  wild  grapes  of  our  forest,  and  as 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

the  young  and  merry  people  would  unsuccess 
fully   snatch    at    these    beautiful   bunches    as 
they  rapidly  passed,   we  were  reminded  of 
how  swiftly  they   would   pass   through  life, 
and  at  how  many  pleasures  they  would  vainly 
grasp.     The  fifth  mile  is  accomplished  and 
we  are  on  the  banks  of  the  Savannah.     We 
had    hardly    time    to    admire    the    beautiful 
stream,  when  turning  to  the  right,  imagine 
our  surprise   at  seeing   a  beautifully  spread 
table.     Curiosity  soon  carried  us  to  the  spot, 
and  our  astonishment  was  only  increased  when 
we  saw  the  preparations  that  had  been  made. 
"We  soon  learned  that  a  lady  who  had 
once  graced  the  society  of  Washington,  and 
afterwards    by    her    intelligence    and   accom 
plished  manners,  had  delighted  the  society  of 
Columbia,  had  sent  on  fishermen  and  cooks, 
and  had  spread  this  repast  in  honor  of  the 
new  married  couple,  which  no  one  would  have 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

dreamed  could  have  been  got  up  at  such  a 
place. 

"  But  the  breakfast  is  over;  the  dew  spar 
kling  in  the  grass  at  our  feet;  the  happy  chirp 
of  the  birds  as  they,  too,  make  their  morning 
meal  on  the  berries  and  insects  around  us, 
together  with  the  mocking  birds  seated  in  the 
tree  above  our  table  and  seemingly  conscious 
of  their  powers,  have  come  to  pay  their  sweet 
tribute  to  the  bride,  all  constrain  us  to  linger. 
That  sister  too,  next  to  the  bride  in  years, 
she  feels  it  wrong,  but  yet  she  cannot  be  will 
ing  to  relinquish  her  sister  to  her  newly  made 
brother.  Well  does  she  remember,  how  on 
repeated  occasions,  that  soft  voice  has  com 
forted  her,  and  she  cannot  trust  herself  to  say 
adieu.  And  little  Frank  has  lifted  his  blue 
eyes  to  his  mother  as  if  to  inquire,  *  Will  that 
man  take  away  my  aunty  ?  '  That  look  has 
reached  his  mother's  heart,  it  is  too  full  to 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

explain ;  and  she  stoops  to  kiss  away  the  tears 
from  his  cheeks.  That  brother,  he  is  much 
her  senior  in  years,  he  is  no  stranger  to  life's 
conflicts,  see  how  his  heart  trembles  when  he 
says  *  God  bless  you  Nannie.1 

"  But  the  iron  horse  tarries  on  his  way  for 
none,  the  railroad  is  to  be  reached  by  such  an 
hour  and  into  the  waiting  boat  step  the  bride 
and  groom,  the  young  minister  and  his 
mother.  Scarcely  had  the  boat  left  the  shore 
when  the  oft-repeated  charge  is  reiterated  by 
that  venerable  mother  to  her  children  on 
shore,  *  My  children,  take  good  care  of  your 
father.' 

u  It  has  not  been  with  her  one  short  morn 
ing  of  married  life.  Forty  years  ago  she 
stood  at  the  altar  with  her  husband,  and  with 
him  has  she  shared  life's  sorrows  and  joys; 
and  for  him  with  woman's  constancy  her 
heart  still  beats  truest.  But  adieu,  young  and 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

happy  couple.  That  your  boat,  as  it  crosses 
the  waters  of  life,  may  guide  you  as  smoothly 
as  it  now  does  across  the  beautiful  waters  of 
the  Savannah,  is  the  sincere  wish  of  V.  ... 
August  10,  1859.'* 

Such,  my  dear  Dorothy,  is  the  account  of 
my  wedding  which  took  place  so  many  years 
ago,  and  with  it  ends  the  first  period  of  my 
life. 

My  husband  was  a  physician  and  as  we 
were  obliged,  on  account  of  his  profession,  to 
live  in  a  central  place,  my  father  built  us  a 
lovely  home  in  Robertville,  which  we  occupied 
about  three  months  before  the  war  began. 
We  moved  there  on  December  21,  1860. 
Your  precious  mother  was  born  March  i, 
1861. 

It  was  a  turbulent  time;  the  feeling  ran 

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Old  Plantation  Days 

high  between  the  North  and  the  South,  and 
we  heard  rumors  of  war,  but  it  seemed  too 
far  away  to  invade  our  peaceful  country. 

When  your  mother  was  five  weeks  old  we 
took  her  to  Charleston  to  show  her  to  your 
grandfather's  parents — an  important  visit, 
as  she  was  the  first  grand-baby  in  the  family 
and  they  were  eager  to  see  her. 

It  was  an  all-day  journey  with  a  drive  of 
twenty  miles  to  the  railway.  We  reached 
Charleston  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
My  father-in-law  met  us,  and  after  a  warm 
greeting  to  the  little  stranger  and  ourselves, 
said,  "  You  are  just  in  time  to  see  the  fight 
at  Fort  Sumter,  for  it  begins  to-night."  I 
was  terrified  and  begged  to  be  taken  home, 
but  there  was  no  train  until  morning  and, 
therefore,  we  had  to  remain. 

That  night  I  was  too  frightened  to  sleep. 
Toward  morning,  about  four  o'clock,  the  first 


Old  Plantation  Days 

gun  was  fired,  and  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  it 
were  in  my  room.  I  sprang  up,  as  I  suppose 
everyone  else  did  in  the  city.  I  hurriedly 
dressed  myself  and  went  down  to  cousin 
Louis  De  Saussure's  house,  which  is  still 
standing  on  the  corner  of  South  and  East 
Battery. 

From  its  numerous  piazzas,  which  com 
manded  a  fine  view  of  the  harbor,  we  watched 
every  gun  fired  from  the  two  forts,  Moultrie 
and  Sumter.  The  house  was  crowded  with 
excited  mothers  and  wives,  who  had  sons  and 
husbands  in  the  fight,  and  every  hour  added 
to  their  distress  and  excitement,  as  reports, 
which  afterwards  proved  false,  were  brought 
to  them  of  wounded  dear  ones.  It  was  a  day 
I  can  never  forget. 

That  night  we  returned  to  Grandfather 
De  Saussure's  and  when  morning  came  we 
spent  another  most  anxious  day  following 

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Old  Plantation  Days 

an  anxious  night,  but  when  Fort  Sumter  took 
fire  and  the  white  flag  was  raised,  our  spirits 
rose  over  the  Southern  victory,  to  confidence 
and  hope. 

We  little  realized  the  long  years  of  strug 
gle  that  were  to  follow  ending  in  defeat,  and 
ruined  homes  and  country.  Later  on  I  was 
in  Charleston  several  times  when  it  was  under 
shot  and  shell  and  heard  the  explosions  of 
the  shells  as  they  shrieked  over  our  houses. 
Those  were  sad  and  exciting  times,  the  awful 
memories  of  which  are  still  active  with  me. 

After  a  visit  of  several  weeks,  we  returned 
to  our  home  in  Robertville,  and  my  husband 
continued  his  practice,  but  his  restlessness 
and  anxiety  to  join  the  army  was  so  great  that 
I  ceased  to  dissuade  him.  Physicians  were 
needed  at  home,  but  he  thought  the  older 
men  should  serve  there,  and  the  younger  go 
to  the  front.  He  joined  the  Charleston  Light 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

Dragoons,  and  became  surgeon  of  Major 
Trenholm's  brigade.  When  this  brigade  was 
was  transferred  to  Virginia,  he  was,  on  ac 
count  of  his  health,  detailed  to  look  after  the 
hospitals  on  the  coast. 

But  before  we  left  our  home,  the  fort 
below  our  country  town,  Beaufort,  was  taken, 
and  the  Northern  fleet  sailed  in  while  the 
inhabitants  were  asleep.  This  fight  at  Port 
Royal  was  the  second  battle  of  the  war. 

When  the  tidings  of  the  invasions  of  their 
town  was  brought  to  them,  the  people,  think 
ing  the  town  would  be  shelled,  fled  in  their 
carriages,  many  of  them  not  waiting  to  dress 
themselves,  so  great  was  their  fright.  This 
long  procession  of  carriages  and  wagons 
passed  through  our  village  about  dusk,  the 
occupants  not  knowing  what  to  do  or  where 
to  go.  Every  house  was  thrown  open  to 
them  and  these  first  refugees  remained  in 


Old  Plantation  Days 

the  neighborhood  during  the  war.  They 
were  taken  care  of,  until  in  turn  we  had  to 
flee  before  Sherman's  army. 

When  Dr.  De  Saussure  went  into  service 
I  returned  to  my  father's  home  and  lived 
there  until  Sherman  drove  us  out.  I  made 
many  visits  to  my  husband  while  he  was  in 
camp.  I  would  load  a  wagon  with  provi 
sions,  and  take  my  trusted  butler,  who  was  a 
good  cook  and  equal  to  any  emergency,  and 
so  we  would  arrive  on  the  scene  of  action. 

We  lived  in  a  cabin  of  two  rooms  not 
more  than  twelve  by  fifteen  feet,  for  when 
ever  my  husband  was  stationed  at  any  special 
hospital  he  would  tell  the  convalescent  pa 
tients  that  if  they  would  put  up  a  little  log 
cabin  he  would  send  for  me.  The  officers 
would  have  their  tents  stationed  around  our 
little  cabin  and  we  had  some  pleasant  times, 
though  many  anxious  ones,  for  we  never 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

knew  when  we  would  be  obliged  to  flee. 
Thus  I  experienced  the  pleasures  and  terrors 
of  camp  life.  Your  great-aunt  Agnes,  whom 
you  met  at  the  South  as  an  old  lady,  was  then 
a  young  lady  visiting  us.  She  was  a  beau 
tiful  girl  with  a  voice  like  a  bird.  She  was 
a  great  favorite  with  the  officers  and  mar 
ried  Colonel  Colcock,  who  was  acting  briga 
dier  general  of  the  coast.  The  time  for 
her  wedding  was  appointed  and  invitations 
sent  out  for  a  country  wedding.  The  day 
came,  and  hour  after  hour  we  heard  heavy 
cannonading.  We  knew  a  battle  was  being 
fought  near  us,  but  could  learn  no  particulars. 
Evening  came,  and  the  wedding  guests  as 
sembled,  but  no  groom  arrived.  There  was 
great  uneasiness  among  the  guests,  and  I  per 
suaded  Agnes  to  change  her  gown  and  come 
downstairs  to  see  if  her  presence  would  not 
cheer  the  party.  Although  filled  with  anxiety 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

herself,  she  followed  my  persuasion  and  be 
haved  most  admirably,  but  we  had  the  wed 
ding  feast  served  as  soon  as  possible,  and 
the  guests  quickly  departed.  Everyone  was 
anxious,  and  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
we  heard  the  galloping  of  horses  beneath  the 
windows  and  a  soldier  called  to  us  that  he 
had  some  dispatches  for  us. 

It  proved  as  we  thought;  there  had  been 
fighting  all  day  and  Colonel  Colcock  was  not 
wounded,  but  would  come  as  soon  as  possible. 
Two  days  afterwards  he  appeared  in  the 
morning  and  brought  a  minister  with  him. 
He  and  Agnes  were  married  at  once,  and  he 
took  his  bride  away  with  him;  not  to  the 
camp,  but  to  a  place  where  she  would  be  more 
comfortable,  and  he  could  sometimes  see  her. 
Their  bridal  trip  was  spent  within  fortifica 
tions  along  the  coast. 

Those  were  days  of  constant  excitement 
70 


Old  Plantation  Days 

and  unrest,  as  you  can  well  imagine.  Hus 
bands  and  sons  were  all  away,  giving  their 
lives  in  defense  of  their  "  hearth  fires."  The 
trusted  negroes  were  our  only  protection  and 
they  took  every  care  of  us. 

I  well  remember  a  scene  that  occurred 
about  this  time  of  the  war.  My  youngest 
brother  was  a  prisoner  near  Old  Point  Com 
fort,  and  finally  received  his  liberty  through 
the  kindness  of  a  fellow  Southern  soldier. 
They  had  been  in  prison  six  months  together 
suffering  all  the  hardships  of  prison  life  dur 
ing  war.  Many  times  starvation  stared  them 
in  the  face,  and  upon  some  of  the  prisoners 
the  death  penalty  was  inflicted  when  the 
men  playing  together  would  accidentally  slip 
over  the  so-called  udeath  line."  My  brother 
was  only  about  nineteen  and  the  Benjamin 
of  our  family.  The  soldier  with  him  had 
consumption  and  could  live  only  a  short  time. 


Old  Plantation  Days 

He  came  to  my  brother  and  said  he  was  going 
to  be  released  because  they  knew  he  would 
soon  die.  He  then  offered  to  change  clothes 
with  my  brother  and  take  his  place  and  name, 
thus  letting  my  brother  go  free  while  he  re 
mained  in  prison. 

I  heard  one  day  cries  of  joy  and  great 
excitement  among  the  negroes;  hurrying  to 
the  back  piazza  I  saw  about  fifty  darkies, 
men  and  women  crowded  together  bearing 
my  brother  on  their  shoulders,  "  Massa 
Luther,  Massa's  youngest  boy,  God  bless 
him,  God  bless  him,"  they  shouted. 

You  can  imagine  the  scene.  We  hastened 
down  to  join  in  the  jubilation,  but  father  and 
mother  could  scarcely  get  near  their  son,  as 
the  servants  had  taken  complete  possession 
of  him. 

When  they  finally  made  way  for  the  mas 
ter  and  mistress,  my  parents  found  that  my 
72 


Old  Plantation  Days 

brother's  condition  was  such  that  he  could 
not  come  into  the  house ;  he  was  covered  with 
vermin.  He  was  taken  to  an  outhouse  where 
he  bathed,  and  his  clothing  was  burned.  Then 
he  told  us  of  his  many  adventures  and  his 
hard  time  in  prison,  where  he  would  indeed 
have  starved  had  it  not  been  for  kind  friends 
at  the  North,  who  sent  him  money  which 
enabled  him  to  buy  food,  and  he  told  us  of 
the  great  sacrifice  the  Southern  soldier  had 
made  for  him.  My  father  immediately  for 
warded  a  check  for  a  thousand  dollars  to  the 
poor  family  whose  husband  and  father  never 
returned  to  them. 

Another  war  incident  in  our  family  was 
that  connected  with  a  brother's  son.  At  the 
early  age  of  fifteen,  he  ran  away  to  go  into 
the  Southern  army.  His  mother  could  not 
make  him  return,  so  she  called  a  young  col 
ored  man,  who  was  a  devoted  servant  of  the 
73 


Old  Plantation  Days 

family,  to  her  and  said  to  him,  "  John,  go 
with  your  young  master,  and  whatever  hap 
pens  to  him,  bring  him  back  to  me,  wounded 
or  dead,  bring  him  back  to  me." 

This  young  man's  bravery  made  him 
known  throughout  the  regiment.  He  was 
finally  wounded,  and  died  in  North  Carolina 
in  a  hospital,  John  never  leaving  him.  After 
his  death,  John  put  him  in  a  pine  coffin  rough 
ly  knocked  together  and  started  home  with 
him.  In  the  month  of  August  the  devoted 
servant  reached  his  mistress,  having  been 
two  weeks  on  the  way.  He  would  tell  his 
story  and  beg  for  help  to  take  his  young 
master  home,  according  to  his  promise  to  his 
mistress. 

In  spite  of  many  misrepresentations  by 
those  who  can  never  comprehend  the  ten 
der  attachment  existing  in  those  days  between 
master  and  slave,  I  want  you  to  have  a  clear 
74 


Old  Plantation  Days 

idea  of  it,  and  I  want  you  to  know  that 
the  Southerner  understood,  and  understands 
to  this  day,  the  negro's  character  better  than 
the  Northerner,  and  is  in  the  main  kinder  to, 
and  more  forbearing  with  him.  There  were 
countless  incidents  during  the  war  of  love 
and  loyalty  shown  by  the  negroes  to  their 
former  owners,  which  you  will  read  of  in  the 
many  stories  written  now  by  those  who  know 
the  truth. 

The  year  1864,  in  the  month  of  December, 
found  me  still  in  the  old  homestead. 

Sherman  had  passed  on  the  Georgia  side 
of  the  river,  to  Savannah,  which  was  taken. 
We  wondered  what  would  be  his  next  move, 
but  never  for  an  instant  thought  he  would 
retrace  his  steps,  and  go  through  South  Car 
olina. 

The  Southern  troops  which  had  guarded 
Savannah  retreated  to  our  neighborhood,  and 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

we  cared  for  them  for  several  weeks.  There 
were  at  least  five  thousand  troops  on  our 
plantation  of  nine  thousand  acres.  Barbe 
cues  of  whole  beeves,  hogs,  and  sheep  were 
ordered  for  them.  The  officers  were  fed  in 
the  house,  there  being  sometimes  two  hun 
dred  a  day.  The  soldiers  had  their  meals 
in  camp. 

All  planters  in  South  Carolina  were  re 
stricted  by  law  in  planting  cotton.  Only  three 
acres  were  allowed  to  the  negro  worker,  thus 
causing  a  large  amount  of  corn  and  other 
such  grain  to  be  raised,  because  the  Confed 
erate  Government  wanted  this  to  provide  for 
the  Southern  army. 

Thousands  of  bushels  of  corn  could  not 
be  housed,  but  were  harvested  and  left  in 
pens  in  the  fields.  Father  had  ten  thousand 
bushels  of  corn  on  our  plantation. 

We  did  not  sell  cotton  during  the  war.  For 


Old  Plantation  Days 

money  we  had  no  use,  as  everything  was 
grown  or  manufactured  on  the  plantation. 
We  had  a  steam  mill  for  sawing  lumber,  and 
mills  for  grinding  corn  and  wheat.  Sugar 
was  made  in  quantities  for  negroes,  but  there 
was  no  way  of  refining  it. 

Everything  was  bountiful  and  we  lacked 
nothing,  but  coffee  and  tea.  Every  known 
and  unknown  substitute  was  used  for  these 
drinks,  but  none  were  satisfactory;  other 
wise  we  never  lived  with  greater  abun 
dance. 

Our  swamps  yielded  us  all  game  bounti 
fully,  venison,  wild  turkeys,  partridges,  and 
reed  birds.  It  was  a  rich  country  and  could 
feed  an  army. 

I  met  and  conversed  with  many  of  the  chief 
officers,  and  consulted  them  about  the  ad 
visability  of  sending  my  father,  who  was  then 
seventy  years  of  age,  away  from  his  home. 

77 


Old  Plantation  Days 

The  officers  urged  us  to  do  so,  as  they  feared 
the  Northern  army  would  invade  our  State 
and  township.  So  very  reluctantly  father  and 
mother  left  their  loved  home,  which  they 
were  destined  never  to  see  again.  They  went 
to  live  with  a  married  daughter,  who  had  a 
home  in  an  adjoining  county.  Some  of  their 
negroes  pleaded  to  go  with  them,  and  about 
fifty  followed  with  wagons  filled  with  their 
effects. 

It  was  a  wise  provision  that  father  was 
spared  the  sight  of  the  destruction  of  his 
house  and  property,  and  possibly  personal 
violence  from  the  hands  of  the  Northern  sol 
diers,  for  during  the  raid,  my  uncle,  an  old 
man  who  was  reputed  to  be  wealthy  was 
asked  by  the  soldiers  where  he  had  buried 
his  gold;  and  twice  was  he  hung  by  them  and 
cut  down  when  unconscious,  because  he  would 
not  confess  its  hiding  place.  My  child,  he 

78 


Old  Plantation  Days 

had  no  gold,  his  wealth  lay  in  his  land  and 
negroes. 

Shortly  after  father  and  mother's  depar 
ture,  one  morning,  early,  the  remaining  ne 
groes  came  running  to  the  house  in  a  state 
of  wild  excitement,  and  said  that  Sherman's 
army  was  crossing  the  Savannah  River  at  the 
next  landing  below  my  father's.  I  was  pick 
ing  oranges  when  the  news  came.  Green 
oranges,  blossoms,  and  ripe  fruit  all  hung 
together  on  the  tree.  It  was  a  favorite  tree 
grown  to  an  unusual  size  by  the  care  given 
it,  as  it  was  always  protected  in  winter.  I 
have  only  to  close  my  eyes  at  any  time  and 
see  plainly  the  beautiful  tree  in  all  its  glory 
of  fruit  and  flower.  We  had  picked  from 
it  that  day  a  thousand  oranges,  the  most 
luscious  fruit,  but  they  were  left  for  Sher 
man's  army  to  devour,  for  we  were  thrown 
into  a  panic  by  the  news  the  negroes  brought 
79 


Old  Plantation  Days 

us,  and  hastily  got  into  our  carriages  and  fled. 
The  negroes  followed  us  in  wagons,  and  we 
left  our  lovely  home  as  if  we  had  gone  for  a 
drive. 

Our  flight  has  always  reminded  me  of  Ja 
cob's  going  down  into  Egypt,  a  caravan  of 
people,  for  as  we  fled  we  first  took  with  us 
our  dear  father  and  mother,  then  as  the  panic 
spread,  one  married  daughter  with  all  her 
children  joined  us,  and  then  another,  until 
we  finally  numbered  about  forty  persons 
journeying  northward.  In  order  that  you 
may  understand  how  our  numbers  increased 
so  rapidly,  I  must  tell  you  that  father  gave 
each  of  his  children  at  marriage  a  plantation 
with  negroes  and  a  house.  These  homes 
were  in  an  adjoining  county,  that  of  Barnwell, 
and  as  we  passed  through  this  county  differ 
ent  members  of  the  family  would  join  us. 

On  the  second  day  of  our  journey  your 
80 


Old  Plantation  Days 

mother  was  taken  with  a  sore  throat  and  high 
fever,  and  as  we  had  no  bed  to  lay  her  on 
we  took  turns  in  holding  her  in  our  arms. 
Thus  we  traveled  to  the  upper  part  of  the 
State  fleeing  from  the  army  of  invaders  at 
whose  hands  we  expected  no  mercy  of  any 
kind. 

An  old  school  friend  of  mine,  Georgiana 
Dargan,  daughter  of  the  Chancellor  of  South 
Carolina,  had  written  me  repeatedly  during 
the  war  to  come  to  her.  She  had  never  mar 
ried  and  lived  in  a  large  Southern  colonial 
mansion  situated  on  a  beautiful  estate.  We, 
in  our  need,  thought  of  her  and  pushed  on, 
hoping  she  could  receive  us  all.  We  were 
not  disappointed,  the  house  was  thrown 
open  to  us  and  we  received  a  warm  wel 
come. 

It  was  a  strange  fate  that  Sherman  fol 
lowed  us  in  our  flight  passing  through  Co- 
Si 


Old  Plantation  Days 

lumbia  and  within  ten  miles  of  us.  His  scouts 
came  in  and  stole  all  our  horses,  except  a 
few  which  we  had  time  to  hide  in  the  swamps. 
The  soldiers  ordered  many  of  the  negroes, 
choosing  the  best  young  men,  to  mount  the 
horses  and  go  with  them.  All  of  them  re 
turned  to  us  that  night;  they  had  broken 
away  from  camp,  but  were  on  foot.  But  let 
me  tell  you  here,  Sherman's  army  burned 
Columbia.  He  denied  it,  but  we  know  he 
did  it  for  my  husband's  sister,  Mrs.  Thomas 
Clarkson,  who  lived  there,  was  ill,  and  the 
soldiers  lifted  her  out  of  bed  and  laid  her 
in  the  street  while  the  torch  was  put  to  her 
home.  Then,  too,  only  three  years  ago,  the 
burning  of  Columbia  was  admitted  to  me  by 
a  Northern  general,  General  Howard.  These 
were  his  words:  "Sherman  did  not  burn 
Columbia,  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  his  troops 
did."  They  got  hold  of  liquor  and  so  became 
82 


Old  Plantation  Days 

mercilessly  destructive.  Sherman  may  not 
have  given  the  order,  but  he  was  undoubtedly 
responsible  for  the  plunder  and  destruction 
engaged  in  by  those  under  his  command.  The 
people  of  Columbia  were  left  without  shelter 
or  food,  "  Only  women  and  children  to  wage 
war  against,"  as  a  venerable  judge,  Judge 
William  De  Saussure,  an  uncle  of  Dr.  De 
Saussure,  told  Sherman  in  pleading  for  clem 
ency. 

We  were  about  fifty  miles  above  Columbia, 
and  as  the  army  passed  us  they  went  on  to 
Cheraw,  a  town  lying  on  the  northern  border 
of  South  Carolina,  forty  miles  above  us. 

There  your  great-grandfather  De  Saus 
sure,  who  was  an  old  man,  had  fled  from  his 
home  in  Charleston  with  his  five  daughters. 
In  a  few  days  news  was  brought  us  that 
Cheraw  had  been  burned,  and  everybody  was 
starving. 

83 


Old  Plantation  Days 

I  was  naturally  eager  to  go  to  the  assist 
ance  of  my  husband's  people,  and  I  went  to 
one  of  my  sisters-in-law  asking  her  if  she 
would  be  willing  to  accompany  me  to  Cheraw, 
a  drive  of  forty  miles.  She  said  she  would 
go  with  me.  Joe,  my  butler,  to  whom  I  was 
very  much  attached,  agreed  to  drive  us.  We 
borrowed  a  pair  of  mules  and  started  in  the 
early  morning  with  corn  meal  and  bacon  and 
flour  for  my  husband's  people.  We  had 
driven  only  a  few  miles  when  we  came  to  the 
road  passed  over  by  Sherman  only  four  days 
before.  Such  sights  as  we  beheld  along  that 
road;  dead  horses,  disemboweled  cattle,  dead 
dogs,  and  as  it  was  in  spring  they  were  all 
decomposed  because  of  our  hot  climate.  At 
every  turn  of  the  road  we  expected  to  meet 
outriders  from  the  Northern  army.  It  was 
a  day  of  great  fatigue  and  fear.  Our  mules 
were  lazy  and  would  not  move  out  of  a  walk. 


Old  Plantation  Days 

Joe  mounted  one  of  them,  and  strove  in  vain 
to  urge  them  on  faster. 

The  day  seemed  endless  to  us,  but  the 
hours  wore  on,  and  the  sun  was  just  setting 
as  we  crawled  up  a  final  hill,  when  we  were 
startled  by  seeing  a  number  of  men  on  horse 
back  approaching,  who  we  were  sure  were 
soldiers.  My  heart  sank,  for  I  expected  our 
carriage  would  be  confiscated  as  well  as  the 
mules,  and  we  left  to  spend  the  night  unpro 
tected  in  the  woods. 

As  the  horsemen  drew  nearer,  I  saw  to  my 
joy  that  there  was  a  mixture  of  blue  and  gray 
uniforms.  The  men  were  evidently  of  our 
army,  for  Southerners  often  wore  at  this 
stage  of  the  war  any  kind  of  clothing  they 
could  get  hold  of  to  cover  them.  One  of  the 
officers  rode  up  to  us,  and  to  my  great  sur 
prise  and  delight,  I  found  he  was  Major 
Colcock,  whom  I  well  knew,  as  he  was  a 

8s 


Old  Plantation  Days 

brother  of  Colonel  Colcock,  sister  Agnes's 
husband. 

Our  surprise  was  mutual.  He  exclaimed, 
'  Why  Mrs.  De  Saussure,  what  are  you  doing 
here?  "  I  replied,  "  Trying  to  reach  Cheraw 
to  take  provisions  in  to  the  aid  of  my  hus 
band's  father  and  sisters." 

u  To  Cheraw,"  he  exclaimed,  "  a  most 
difficult  journey,  madam;  the  roads  are  in 
a  dreadful  condition  and  the  little  flat  boat 
that  crosses  the  river  is  in  such  demand  I 
doubt  if  you  can  get  it." 

"  I  will  not  turn  back,  Major  Colcock,"  I 
replied.  '*  I  must  go  on."  So  we  parted, 
he  going  his  way  and  I  mine. 

After  two  hours  of  weary  travel,  we 
reached  the  river  and  were  fortunate  in  find 
ing  the  boat  could  carry  us  over  the  river. 
We  crossed  and  reached  the  town  of  Cheraw 
at  ten  o'clock  at  night.  A  scene  of  desolation 
86 


Old  Plantation  Days 

greeted  my  eyes  the  next  morning;  all  the 
public  buildings  had  been  burned,  houses 
alone  were  standing  amid  desolate  surround 
ings.  The  De  Saussure  family  and  others 
had  been  living  on  scorched  rice  and  corn, 
scraped  from  the  ashes.  Officers  as  well 
as  soldiers  had  gone  into  houses  and  taken 
all  food  that  could  be  found  and  burned  it 
in  the  yards  of  the  various  houses;  leaving 
the  women  and  children  to  starve.  My  beau 
tiful  harp,  which  after  cutting  the  strings, 
I  had  sent  to  Cheraw  for  safety  in  care  of 
Mr.  De  Saussure,  had  narrowly  escaped  be 
ing  taken  by  some  officers.  They  asked  to 
have  the  box  opened  for  them,  but  Mr.  De 
Saussure  told  them  the  harp  was  out  of  order, 
so  they  passed  it  by.  My  harp  was  safe,  but 
your  great-aunt  Agnes  was  not  so  fortunate 
with  her  piano.  It  was  a  gift  from  her  father 
when  she  left  school,  and  a  beautiful  Stein- 

8? 


Old  Plantation  Days 

way.  When  she  married  Colonel  Colcock, 
he  said  to  her:  "  Ship  your  piano  to  Charles 
ton;  it  will  be  safer  there  than  in  the  coun 
try."  Colonel  Colcock  was  from  Charleston 
and  had  relatives  to  whom  he  wrote  asking 
them  to  care  for  the  piano,  when  it  arrived. 
It  reached  Charleston  just  about  the  time  the 
city  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Col 
onel  Colcock's  uncle  went  down  to  the  station 
to  get  it,  when  he  learned  that  an  officer  had 
taken  it  and  shipped  it  off  to  the  North. 

Twenty  years  after  the  war,  this  notice 
published  in  the  News  and  Courier  of 
Charleston  was  sent  me  from  different  parts 
of  the  South: 


88 


Old  Plantation  Days 
NOTICE 

A   RELIC   OF  THE   WAR 

Miss  Nannie  Bostick's   Music  Book  in  the 
Hands  of  a  Federal  Soldier. 

To  the  editor  of  the  News  and  Courier: 
Will  you  insert  the  following  in  your  paper, 
as  it  will  be  of  benefit  to  one  of  South  Car 
olina's  ladies: 

If  Miss  Nannie  Bostick  will  communicate 
with  Captain  James  B.  Rife,  Middletown, 
Dauphin  County,  Pennsylvania,  she  will 
learn  something  to  her  advantage. 

I  have  in  my  possession  a  music  book  which 
was  captured  or  stolen  by  some  one  during 
the  war,  and  I  would  like  to  return  it  to  her 
if  she  still  lives.  By  so  doing  you  will  greatly 
oblige, 

Yours  very  truly,  JAS.  B.  RIFE, 

Late  Capt.  U.  S.  A. 

MIDDLETOWN,  DAUPHIN  COUNTY,  PA., 
January  26,  1889. 

89 


Old  Plantation  Days 

The  Miss  Nannie  Bostick  above  referred 
to  afterwards  married  Dr.  Henry  De  Saus- 
sure,  of  this  city.  After  his  death  she  was 
for  a  long  time  employed  as  an  instructor  at 
Vassar  College,  N.  Y.,  and  is  now  a  resident 
of  Brooklyn.  The  home  of  Colonel  Bostick, 
the  father  of  Mrs.  De  Saussure,  on  Black 
Swamp,  in  Beaufort  (now  Hampton)  Coun 
ty,  was  burned  by  General  Sherman's  army  in 
the  grand  "  march  to  the  sea." 

On  reading  it  I  was  of  course,  much  ex 
cited  and  wrote  immediately  to  the  gentle 
man  in  Meadsville,  telling  him  I  was  the 
person  he  was  looking  for.  I  waited  three 
weeks  most  anxiously,  and  then  received  a 
letter  from  his  sister  saying  that  for  years 
her  brother  had  been  trying  to  find  me,  and 
that  he  had  something  to  tell  me  which  was 
communicated  to  him  by  a  dying  soldier. 
The  sister  further  wrote  that  her  brother  had 
90 


Old  Plantation  Days 

advertised  in  New  York  and  Southern  papers 
before,  and  the  cause  of  his  doing  so  again 
was  that  a  young  niece  visiting  them,  in  look 
ing  over  some  old  books  had  come  across  a 
music  book  with  my  name  on  it.  She  went 
with  it  into  his  room,  and  said,  "  Uncle,  who 
is  Miss  Nannie, W.  Bostick?" 

He  sprang  from  his  chair  exclaiming, 
"  What  do  you  know  about  her?" 

When  he  learned  that  she  knew  nothing 
and  had  merely  seen  my  name  on  the  old 
music  book,  he  said,  "  I  will  try  once  more 
to  find  her,"  and  sent  off  the  notice  to  the 
News  and  Courier  of  Charleston. 

As  fate  would  have  it  the  next  day,  on  his 
way  to  Harrisburg  to  make  arrangements  for 
a  Cleveland  procession,  his  horse  took  fright 
from  a  trolley  car,  and  in  the  accident  he 
was  instantly  killed. 

The  music  book  was  returned  to  me  by  his 


Old  Plantation  Days 

sister,  but  whatever  the  secret  was  that  he 
had  carried  so  many  years,  it  died  with  him, 
for  no  one  else  knew  it. 

After  his  death  his  sister  asked  me  to  visit 
her.  She  said  my  name  was  so  often  on  her 
brother's  lips,  and  she  only  knew  he  wanted 
to  communicate  something  of  importance, 
but  what  it  was  he  had  never  told  her.  He 
was  a  prominent  man  in  the  army.  She  sent 
me  his  photograph  and  the  notice  of  his 
death. 

You  can  imagine  this  incident  brought  back 
many  memories.  What  could  have  been  the 
dying  soldier's  communication  that  Captain 
Rife  wished  so  much  to  tell  me,  and  which 
he  never  intrusted  to  any  other  member  of 
his  family  ?  And  where  had  this  very  heavy, 
old  music  book,  in  his  possession,  been  found  ? 
My  sisters,  when  I  met  them,  talked  the  mat 
ter  over  with  me,  and  Agnes  said:  "I  re- 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

member  putting  a  lot  of  books,  among  them 
some  of  yours,  with  my  piano  to  pack  it  tight 
ly.  "  When  it  was  shipped  North  the  book 
was  found  with  the  piano,  as  I  have  since 
ascertained. 

We  wondered  that  the  music  book  had 
ever  come  back  to  me,  its  rightful  owner, 
but  since  I  have  lived  at  the  North,  even 
family  Bibles,  which  were  taken  from  the 
old  homes,  have  been  returned  to  me. 
Looting  was  the  order  of  the  day  during 
the  Civil  War,  and  wanton  destruction  fol 
lowed. 

I  once  went  South  with  old  Captain 
Berry,  who  for  twenty  years  had  charge  of 
a  steamer  plying  between  Charleston  and 
New  York.  Your  mamma  and  myself  were 
the  only  ladies  on  board,  as  the  time  was  in 
July  when  the  tide  of  travel  was  northward. 
The  officers  of  the  steamer  were  exceedingly 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

kind  to  us,  and  told  us  many  interesting  stories 
of  their  seafaring  lives. 

Captain  Berry  told  me  of  a  trip  he  made 
from  New  Orleans  to  New  York,  when  Gen 
eral  Ben  Butler  was  there  in  command.  A 
division  of  the  army  was  being  transferred 
and  Captain  Berry  said  that  besides  soldiers 
the  vessel  was  laden  with  all  kinds  of  hand 
some  furniture,  with  pictures,  pianos,  and 
trunks  filled  with  women's  clothing,  from  a 
lady's  bonnet  to  slippers.  That  division  of 
the  army  which  Captain  Berry  was  bringing 
North  belonged  to  one  of  the  generals  under 
Butler's  command. 

The  vessel  was  laden,  the  last  soldier  had 
stepped  aboard,  when  just  before  the  gang 
plank  was  lowered,  a  jet-black  pony  was  hur 
ried  aboard,  a  perfect  beauty.  Then  a  lady 
was  seen  rapidly  riding  along  the  wharf;  she 
quickly  jumped  from  her  horse,  and  went 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

on  board  inquiring  for  the  general;  when  he 
was  pointed  out  to  her  she  stepped  up  to  him 

and  said :  "  General ,  you  have  taken  my 

husband's  last  gift  to  his  little  boy,  the  pony; 
I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  return  him  to  me." 
The  general  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  her  request, 
and  as  he  did  so,  she  drew  her  whip  across 
his  face  with  a  stinging  lash.  Had  he  lifted 
his  finger  to  her  in  return,  Captain  Berry 
said,  the  soldiers  would  have  shot  him  dead. 
During  that  trip  North  in  the  silence  of 
the  night,  the  soldiers  went  down  into  the 
hold  of  the  vessel,  opened  every  box,  cut 
strings  on  pianos,  ruined  pictures  and  other 
things  with  ashes  and  water,  then  nailed  up 
every  box  carefully  and  put  it  in  place  again. 
This  was  done  by  the  Northern  soldiers  on 
board  who  knew  of  and  resented  the  wrong 
done  to  the  people  of  New  Orleans.  The 
poor  little  pony  never  reached  his  destina- 
95 


Old  Plantation  Days 

tion,  for  he  was  found  dead  the  next  morning; 
a  mysterious  death,  but  the  soldiers  knew, 
and  had  had  a  hand  in  his  taking  off.  Thus 
they  avenged  the  lady  to  whom  their  sym 
pathy  had  gone  out. 

Captain  Berry  was  a  Northern  man,  but 
his  frequent  visits  to  Charleston  had  thrown 
him  into  intimate  relations  with  the  Southern 
people  and  he  admired  them  greatly. 

We  spent  six  months,  from  December, 
1864,  until  June,  1865,  at  Darlington,  our 
place  of  retreat.  It  was  a  hard  winter;  food 
was  scarce,  and  little  but  the  coarsest  kind 
could  be  bought. 

By  spring  we  had  grown  hopeless,  and  well 
I  remember  that  while  walking  in  the  garden 
some  one  called  out  to  me,  "  The  war  is  over, 
Lee  has  surrendered. "  My  feelings  were 
tumultuous;  joy  and  sorrow  strove  with  each 
other.  Joy  in  the  hope  of  having  my  hus- 


Old  Plantation  Days 

band  and  the  brothers  and  friends  who  were 
left,  return  to  me,  but  oh,  such  sorrow  over 
our  defeat! 

In  the  course  of  time,  the  men  of  our  fam 
ily  returned  with  the  exception  of  your  great- 
uncle  Edward,  my  brother,  who  had  gone 
through  the  war,  but  was  finally  killed  in  the 
last  two  weeks  of  fighting  around  Petersburg, 
Va. 

As  one  after  another  of  the  family  came 
back  to  us,  worn  out  and  dispirited,  our 
thoughts  turned  to  the  dear  old  home  on  the 
Savannah  River,  and  we  longed  to  go  back. 
Before  yielding  to  our  desires,  it  was  con 
sidered  wise  for  the  men  of  the  family  to  go 
first  and  investigate.  They  found  only  ashes 
and  ruin  everywhere  in  our  neighborhood, 
and  father's  place,  except  a  few  negro  cabins, 
was  burned  to  the  ground.  There  were 
thirty  buildings  destroyed. 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

The  steam  mill,  blacksmith's  shop,  carpen 
ter's  shop,  barns,  and  house — nothing  was 
left  standing  except  chimney  and  brick  walls 
to  mark  the  place  of  our  once  prosperous, 
happy  home.  There  was  but  one  fence 
paling  to  indicate  the  site  of  our  little  village. 
The  church,  too,  was  burned,  and  now  negro 
cabins  are  standing  where  it  once  graced 
the  landscape.  Our  beautiful  lawns  were 
plowed  up  and  planted  in  potatoes  and 
corn  by  the  negroes,  who  were  told  we  would 
never  return. 

Sherman  left  a  track  of  fire  for  three  hun 
dred  miles  through  the  State.  When  you 
hear  the  war  song  u  Marching  through 
Georgia,"  which  stirs  the  hearts  of  the 
Northerner,  think  of  the  scenes  of  desolation 
and  heartbreak  the  song  recalls  to  the  South 
erner. 

When  I  left  my  own  home  in  Robertville, 


Old  Plantation  Days 

I  took  the  daguerreotypes  of  my  old  school 
mates,  Northern  girls,  of  whom  I  was  fond, 
and  opening  the  clasps  I  stood  them  all  in  a 
row  on  the  mantel,  hoping  that  should  some 
commander  find  among  them  the  face  of  a 
relative,  he  would  spare  the  house  for  the 
sake  of  friendship.  It  was  a  vain  hope,  for 
my  lovely  house  was  destroyed  with  all  the 
others.  However,  a  soldier,  brother  of  one 
of  the  girls,  did  find  among  the  pictures  the 
likeness  of  his  sister  and  he  wrote  me  after 
the  war  about  thus  seeing  amid  the  roar  of 
battle  the  likeness  of  his  angel  sister,  for  she 
was  then  dead. 

You  will  often  hear  of  the  "  reconstruction 
period,"  the  period  when  the  situation  had 
to  be  faced  by  the  beaten  Southerner,  and 
everything  had  to  be  managed  on  a  new  and 
strange  basis.  That  period  in  my  life  had 
now  come,  for  we  all  resolved  to  return  home 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

and  do  the  best  we  could  with  what  we  had 
left. 

Father  had  loaned  the  Confederate  Gov 
ernment  fifty  horses  and  mules;  twenty-five 
were  returned  to  him,  good,  bad,  and  indif 
ferent.  We  took  the  journey  home  by  the 
aid  of  these  animals,  and  our  carriage  was 
drawn  by  one  large  "  raw-boned "  horse 
helped  by  a  little  pony.  We  camped  out  at 
night,  and  drove  all  day.  Sometimes  we 
were  able  to  get  shelter  for  our  parents.  It 
was  very  rough  traveling;  the  roads  were  de 
stroyed,  and  trees  had  been  cut  down  block 
ing  the  way.  We  finally  reached  the  only 
house  left  standing  near  our  former  home,  at 
eleven  o'clock  at  night,  after  ten  days  of 
travel.  This  house  was  far  off  from  all  plan 
tations,  situated  in  a  pine  forest.  It  was  used 
by  our  family  for  a  summer  retreat.  It  had 
large  airy  rooms;  one  measuring  twenty-five 
100 


Old  Plantation  Days 

feet,  and  one  fifty  feet.  In  this  house,  bereft 
of  all  its  furniture,  our  family  gathered.  We 
found  our  negroes  scattered  and  completely 
demoralized. 

Starvation  seemed  imminent.  The  men  of 
our  family  went  to  work  to  cut  timber,  to  be 
shipped  to  Savannah  on  rafts.  In  the  mean 
time,  before  we  could  expect  any  monetary 
return  from  this  industry,  what  else  could  we 
do  to  better  our  condition?  was  the  question 
we  asked  one  another. 

One  of  my  brother's  former  negroes  came 
to  me  and  said,  "  I  think  you  could  make 
money  by  baking  pies  and  bread  for  the  col 
ored  Northern  troops." 

Those  soldiers  were  quartered  on  my 
father's  plantation.  My  dear,  war  was  noth 
ing  compared  to  the  horrors  of  that  recon 
struction  period.  For  six  months  we  never 
went  to  bed  without  bidding  one  another 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

good-by,  not  expecting  to  be  alive  the  next 
morning.  We  sold  our  jewelry,  all  that  was 
left,  to  the  soldiers,  and  they  would  come  to 
the  house,  march  around  it  with  bayonets 
drawn,  and  curse  us  with  the  vilest  oaths. 
We  would  gather  the  little  ones  around  us, 
bar  the  door,  and  wait,  for  we  knew  not  what. 

When  you  are  old  enough,  Dorothy,  dear, 
read  "The  Leopard's  Spots,"  which  gives 
a  better  description  of  what  we  endured,  than 
I  ever  can  write. 

However,  we  needed  money  to  buy  food 
with.  I,  therefore,  set  to  work  making 
bread,  and  any  number  of  green-apple  pies. 
Tom,  a  negro,  built  us  a  clay  oven  and  we 
secured  a  negro's  service  for  the  baking;  I 
got  up  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  by 
ten  o'clock  Tom  was  off  with  the  pony  and 
wagon,  to  sell  articles  for  us.  We  had 
enough  to  live  on,  but  no  meat  except  bacon. 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

By  request  of  every  white  person  the  Gov 
ernment  removed  the  colored  troops  six 
months  after  the  war,  and  sent  white  troops 
in  their  place. 

Poor  grandpa  would  sit  all  day  with 
bowed  head  and  say  over  and  over,  "  My 
poor  daughters,  my  poor  daughters."  We 
tried  to  appear  brave  and  cheerful  and  would 
say  in  reply,  "Why  we  can  manage;  do  not 
trouble  about  us."  But  father's  heart  was 
broken  and  though  he  appeared  well,  he  in 
stinctively  felt  that  his  days  were  numbered 
and  asked  to  have  our  former  pastor  called. 

When  the  minister  came,  we  and  some 
neighbors  gathered  together  in  a  little  supply 
store  that  was  "  thrown  up  "  after  the  war, 
and  there  we  stood,  or  sat  on  the  counters, 
during  service.  It  was  a  touching  scene. 
Your  mother  was  a  little  girl  of  five  years, 
and  she  feeling  the  sadness  of  it  all,  wept 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

through  the  whole  service.  Father  gathered 
her  in  his  arms  and  tenderly  wiped  her  tears 
away. 

As  service  closed  an  old  church  member 
and  father  advanced  to  shake  hands  with 
each  other  saying  simultaneously:  "  We  shall 
drink  no  more  of  the  fruit  of  the  vine,  until 
we  drink  in  our  Father's  Kingdom." 

It  seemed  in  the  nature  of  a  prediction,  for 
three  days  afterwards  father  passed  peace 
fully  away,  without  apparent  illness. 

Mother  lived  until  her  eighty-seventh  year, 
weary,  sad  years  for  her.  She  lived  with  her 
children,  but  none  were  able  to  make  her 
comfortable.  Poverty  reigned  everywhere, 
and  still  exists  in  that  once  luxurious  country. 
We  thanked  God  that  father  had  not  to  en 
dure,  for  long,  the  sight  of  our  want  and  dis 
tress.  Before  he  died,  however,  we  left  the 
large  house  in  which  we  first  took  refuge,  and 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

started  housekeeping  separately  in  outhouses 
or  cabins  in  the  pinelands,  which  were  for 
merly  used  for  storerooms,  kitchens,  laun 
dries,  etc. 

We  fitted  up  one  of  these  cabins  as  com 
fortably  as  we  could  for  father's  and  moth 
er's  use,  and  in  another  little  house  situated 
about  three  and  a  half  miles  from  them,  I 
lived  a  while  with  your  mamma  and  Dr.  De 
Saussure.  In  this  little  house  we  had  to 
endure  great  hardships  for  many  years,  and 
led  the  most  desolate  lives. 

Your  precious  mother  was  our  only  com 
fort;  she  was  always  happy.  She  had  few 
books,  no  school,  and  as  my  husband  was  an 
invalid,  he  was  often  too  ill  to  see  her,  or  to 
be  left  alone.  She  would  study  her  lessons 
and  sit  outside  the  door  of  his  darkened 
room,  and  when  I  could  leave  him  she  would 
recite  to  me  what  she  had  learned. 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

Another  time  we  lived  in  a  little  cabin, 
part  of  which  was  curtained  off  for  the  ac 
commodation  of  a  sister  of  Dr.  De  Saus- 
sure's  and  her  baby.  Our  kitchen  stove  was 
under  an  open  shed  built  against  the  side  of 
the  house.  Heavy  rain  would  flow  over  the 
dirt  floor,  and  remain  standing  several  inches 
deep. 

At  this  time  your  mother's  one  delight  was 
her  pony  Brownie.  She  would  drive  the  cows 
up  from  the  swamps,  and  Brownie  soon 
learned  to  give  them  a  bite  on  their  backs 
when  they  stopped  to  graze. 

"  Jeff  Davis  "  was  also  a  great  pet;  he  was 
a  young  calf  we  never  allowed  to  leave  the 
yard  for  fear  the  negroes  would  take  him. 
Poor  Jeff  was  sacrificed  for  food,  but  your 
mother's  heart  was  broken  for  her  pet,  and 
she  could  not  be  induced  to  taste  any  portion 
of  the  meat. 

1 06 


Old  Plantation  Days 

Before  I  undertook  to  make  pies  and  bread 
for  the  colored  troops,  and  when  we  were 
very  hard  pressed,  as  I  said  before,  I  went 
and  spent  a  night  with  my  parents.  My 
adopted  sister,  the  housekeeper  of  whom  I 
told  you,  called  me  out  of  the  house  and  tak 
ing  me  some  distance  away  so  we  could  not 
be  heard  by  them,  said :  "  We  have  but  a  pint 
of  corn  meal  in  the  house,  and  if  I  cook  that 
for  our  supper  I  have  nothing  to  give  father 
and  mother  for  breakfast/'  We  cried  to 
gether,  and  wondered  what  we  could  do. 
One  of  our  negro  men  from  the  plantation 
approached  me  and  said,  "  Miss  Nancy " 
(they  called  me  by  that  name,  and  the  grand 
children  of  our  old  negroes  still  use  it) ,  "  the 
steamboat  has  just  landed  at  the  dock,  and 
there  are  lots  of  boxes  for  you."  Amazed,  I 
exclaimed,  "  Why,  who  has  sent  me  any 
thing?"  I  looked  then  upon  all  Northern 
107 


Old  Plantation  Days 

friends  as  enemies.  I  had  not  heard  from 
any  of  them  in  years;  the  war  had  separated 
us.  I  told  the  man  to  take  a  cart  and  hasten 
to  the  dock.  He  returned  laden.  Still  in 
amaze  I  had  the  boxes  opened,  wherein  we 
found  all  sorts  of  provisions:  hams,  sugar, 
tea,  coffee,  crackers,  etc.,  etc.,  and  better  than 
all  a  letter  from  a  gentleman,  who  wrote 
that  he  had  read  in  the  papers  of  the 
great  distress  of  Southern  people ;  he 
knew  nothing  of  my  condition,  but  judged  of 
it  by  what  he  read  of  the  pitiful  state  of 
others,  and  he  wished  me  to  draw  whatever 
amount  we  needed  from  his  agent  in  Savan 
nah  to  relieve  our  necessities.  To  me  the 
heavens  had  opened  and  from  them  came 
these  gifts.  I  saw  in  this  relief  when  we  most 
needed  help  the  kind  care  of  our  heavenly 
Father,  who  had  put  into  the  heart  of  this 
generous  man  to  come  to  our  assistance.  We 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

drew  enough  money  to  enable  us  to  buy  food 
and  to  begin  work  on  our  own  place.  With 
the  account  of  my  acquaintance  with  this  gen 
tleman  my  story  will  close. 

He  was  an  Englishman,  who  had  settled 
with  his  family  in  the  Bahamas.  When  I 
met  him  I  was  in  my  sixteenth  year,  and  was 
on  my  way  to  school  in  Philadelphia.  Agnes 
and  three  brothers  were  with  me,  one  brother 
going  to  Princeton  to  finish  his  theological 
course,  one  to  Lawrenceville  to  school,  and 
the  third  to  Colgate  University. 

On  the  steamer  was  this  gentleman,  taking 
his  son  to  Philadelphia  to  school.  My  eldest 
brother  became  acquainted  with  him,  and  in 
troduced  him  to  me.  It  took  much  longer  in 
those  days  to  make  the  trip,  the  journey  com 
prising  three  and  a  half  to  four  days. 

Agnes  and  I  saw  a  great  deal  of  the  father, 
and  the  son  was  with  my  brother  most  of  the 
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Old  Plantation  Days 

time,  so  that  when  we  reached  Philadelphia, 
we  felt  well  acquainted.  Mr.  Saunders,  for 
that  was  the  name  of  our  new  friend,  said  to 
my  brother  upon  landing:  "  I  shall  be  in  Phil 
adelphia  a  fortnight,  or  until  my  son  becomes 
acquainted  in  the  city.  If  you  will  allow 
me,  I  will  be  pleased  to  take  your  sisters 
driving  with  us,  and  show  them  the  places 
of  interest.'1  Many  pleasant  drives  we  had 
together,  and  grew  better  acquainted  each 
day. 

At  the  end  of  his  visit  he  came  to  bid  us 
farewell,  and  said  to  me :  "  Miss  Nannie,  I 
have  a  request  to  make  of  you,  will  you  grant 
it?"  I  replied,  "If  I  can,  I  will  gladly." 
He  had  often  spoken  of  his  elder  son  who  was 
studying  at  Oxford,  England,  and  he  con 
tinued:  "  In  two  years  my  son  will  graduate, 
I  want  you  to  promise  me  that  you  will  wait 
until  you  see  him  before  engaging  yourself  to 
no 


Old  Plantation  Days 

anyone."  I  laughingly  promised  him  to  wait 
the  two  years. 

When  I  was  seventeen  years  old  I  returned 
home.  I  had  been  there  perhaps  three  years, 
when  I  went  on  a  brief  visit  to  a  friend  who 
lived  about  twenty  miles  away  from  us.  My 
visit  ended,  I  returned  home,  and  as  I  drove 
up  to  the  door,  my  young  brother  ran  out  to 
meet  me  and  said,  "  Guess  who  is  here  to  see 
you,"  and  when  I  failed  in  guessing  he  said, 
"  Mr.  Saunders's  son." 

I  then  met  the  young  gentleman,  a  hand 
some,  fine  young  man,  who  brought  letters  of 
introduction  from  leading  men  in  his  own 
home,  and  one  from  his  father,  who  wrote 
that  he  had  not  forgotten  my  promise  to  him, 
but  that  he  had  been  delayed  in  fulfilling  his 
desire  in  having  us  meet  by  his  son's  failing 
to  find  me. 

He  had  lost  the  address  of  my  home,  and 
in 


Old  Plantation  Days 

thinking  Charleston  the  nearest  town,  his  son 
was  sent  there  to  inquire  for  us.  The  next 
winter  he  sent  him  to  Savannah  to  find  me, 
and  from  there  the  young  man  was  directed 
to  my  father's  home. 

Mr.  Saunders  wrote  that  it  had  been  his 
dearest  wish  to  have  me  for  his  daughter,  and 
he  had  talked  so  much  to  his  son  about  me 
that  he  was  quite  willing  to  fall  in  with  his 
father's  wishes  in  the  matter. 

In  the  meantime  I  had  met  your  grand 
father,  and  had  decided  that  I  would  marry 
him,  or  no  one.  My  father  was  bitterly  op 
posed  to  my  marrying  at  all,  as  he  did  not 
want  to  part  with  me,  and  therefore,  I  was 
waiting  until  he  gave  his  consent. 

We  made  Mr.  Saunders's  visit  as  pleasant 
as  possible,  and  I  told  him  at  once  of  my  af 
fection  for  your  grandfather,  as  I  did  not 
wish  to  deceive  him. 

112 


Old  Plantation  Days 

The  young  man  spent  some  weeks  with  us, 
and  upon  his  return  home  I  received  another 
letter  from  his  father  saying  he  could  not 
give  up  his  cherished  hope  of  having  me  for 
a  daughter,  and  as  his  son  had  fallen  in  love 
with  me,  he  hoped  I  would  reconsider  my  de 
cision.  At  the  same  time  his  son  wrote  of  his 
attachment,  offering  himself  to  me.  But  it 
was  useless  to  urge  me,  and  though  I  felt 
grateful  to  be  looked  upon  with  so  much  af 
fection  I  declined  the  offer. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  very  remark 
able  friendship  which  sprang  up  between  the 
father  and  myself. 

Upon  receipt  of  the  letter  expressing  my 
self  as  steadfast  to  Dr.  De  Saussure,  he  wrote 
in  reply  asking  that  he  might  consider  himself 
as  a  father,  and  to  me  and  your  mother,  who 
always  called  him  grandfather,  he  was  like 
a  father. 


Old  Plantation  Days 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  war,  I  wrote 
to  him  asking  if  he  would  receive  cotton 
through  the  blockade  and  arrange  to  send  us 
in  return  many  necessary  things.  We  were 
without  shoes,  and  were  wearing  clothes 
made  from  our  gay  silk  dresses  carded  up  and 
spun  with  cotton,  thus  woven  into  cloth  by 
our  own  people.  We  then  had  an  abundance 
of  food,  but  other  things  were  not  to  be 
bought.  In  reply  he  said :  "  Do  not  send  your 
cotton,  you  will  run  a  double  risk;  I  will  send 
you  all  you  need,  for  I  have  more  than 
enough  for  my  family  and  yours." 

Never  dreaming  we  would  ever  be  in  a  po 
sition  where  we  could  not  repay  Mr.  Saun- 
ders,  I  wrote  to  him  and  sent  a  list  of 
needed  articles,  pieces  of  linen,  merino,  and 
silk,  and  stockings  and  shoes  for  us  all.  He 
sent  us  two  thousand  dollars  worth  of  goods 
in  gold  value,  thus  generously  supplying 
114 


Old  Plantation  Days 

every  child  and  grandchild  in  our  family  with 
clothes. 

Alas  for  us,  the  war  ended  disastrously, 
and  forgetting  all  he  had  previously  done  for 
me  and  mine,  he  now  sent  money  and  provi 
sions  to  aid  us,  which  help  arrived  in  our 
darkest  hour. 

I  am  glad  to  tell  you  that  these  debts  were 
paid,  though  it  took  us  years  to  do  it. 

Until  Mr.  Saunders's  death,  we  corre 
sponded  regularly,  and  fifteen  years  after  the 
war  he  came  to  see  me  at  Vassar  College,  for 
after  your  grandfather's  death,  I  came  North 
with  your  darling  mother  who  was  fifteen 
years  of  age,  and  went  first  to  Philadelphia, 
placing  her  in  the  same  school  where  I  had 
been  educated,  with  the  same  principals  still 
in  charge,  the  Misses  Bonney  and  Dillaye.  I 
kept  house  in  Philadelphia  in  a  quiet  way  in 
two  rooms,  and  had  been  there  two  years 


Old  Plantation  Days 

when  I  learned  that  the  gentleman  whom 
your  grandfather  had  left  in  charge  of  my  af 
fairs  had  speculated  and  lost  every  cent  I  had 
in  the  world. 

Immediately  I  tried  to  find  some  work  by 
which  I  could  support  your  mother  and  my 
self,  and  through  one  of  my  former  teachers, 
Miss  Morse,  who  was  then  assistant  to  Dr. 
Raymond  of  Vassar  College,  I  was  offered 
the  position  of  assistant  principal.  There  I 
remained  for  five  years.  While  at  Vassar 
your  mother  took  up  a  special  course  at  the 
College  and  graduated  from  the  Art  Depart 
ment. 

One  day  my  dear  old  friend  Mr.  Saunders 
was  announced.  The  last  time  we  met,  I  was 
fifteen  and  he  forty-five  years  old.  This 
latter  meeting  took  place  twenty-five  years 
later.  It  was  a  sad  meeting  for  both  of  us. 
He  had  lost  most  of  his  property,  and  was 
116 


Old  Plantation  Days 

comparatively  poor.  He  took  me  in  his  arms 
and  said;  "  My  child,  if  I  were  able  to  take 
care  of  you  and  your  daughter  you  would  not 
be  here  one  minute,  for  I  would  take  you 
home  with  me  and  take  care  of  you  both." 
The  last  letter  I  received  from  him  said :  "  I 
am  nearly  home  and  when  I  get  there  I  shall 
watch  for  your  coming." 


117 


ADDENDUM 

BEAUFORT,  S.  C.,  January  8,  1906. 
MY  DEAR  AUNT  NANNIE  : 

I  fear  you  have  by  this  time  lost  all  hope 
of  hearing  from  me,  but  I  have  not  forgot 
ten  my  promise.  I  am  afraid,  however,  you 
will  be  very  much  disappointed,  as  I  have  so 
little  information  to  give  about  family  his 
tory,  and  that  little  is  very  scrappy.  Our 
branch  of  the  family  have  been  criminally 
careless  about  preserving  records. 

While  I  have  not  what  we  lawyers  would 
consider  strict  evidence  of  the  fact,  still  I  am 
quite  satisfied  from  circumstances  and  infer 
ences,  which  I  shall  not  undertake  in  this  let 
ter  to  detail,  that  our  family  and  the  North 
ern  family  of  Bostick  were  one  and  the  same. 
118 


Old  Plantation  Days 

Our  American  progenitor  landed  in  Plym 
outh,  Mass.,  sometime  about  the  middle  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  coming  from  Ches 
ter  County,  England,  and  being  probably 
a  political  refugee.  His  wife  also  came 
with  him  from  England.  In  England 
the  family  history  was  both  ancient  and  dis 
tinguished,  the  founder  landing  on  English 
soil  with  William  the  Conqueror,  in  whose 
service  he  was  of  distinguished  rank,  both 
military  and  social.  In  England  he  became 
one  of  the  barons  of  the  realm.  The  title 
remained  for  centuries  in  the  family,  and  may 
be  still  in  existence,  and  has  been  adorned  by 
many  distinguished  representatives  in  the 
English  wars  especially.  The  original  stock 
in  Massachusetts  seems  to  have  migrated, 
mine  northward  and  some  gradually  drifting 
southward.  The  intermediate  links  I  cannot 
supply,  but  finally  these  brothers  settled,  two 
119 


Old  Plantation  Days 

in  Carolina,  the  youngest  being  our  great 
grandfather  Richard,  and  one  in  Georgia.  In 
Jones's  history  of  Georgia  mention  is  made 
of  Captain  Littlebury  Bostick,  a  wealthy  rice 
planter  near  Savannah.  He,  I  think,  was  the 
brother,  or  son  of  the  brother  who  settled  in 
Georgia.  Richard  was  the  youngest  of  the 
three.  The  other  brother,  John,  bought  a 
large  landed  estate  near  Columbia  on  which 
he  lived  and  died  quite  an  old  man.  During 
his  life  he  maintained  the  style  and  reputation 
of  a  man  of  great  wealth,  but  at  his  death  it 
was  found  that  his  affairs  were  financially  in 
volved.  He  never  married,  but  was  known 
as  a  cultured  man  of  decidedly  literary  tastes, 
and  was  a  leading  figure  in  the  social  life  of 
his  section.  His  most  intimate  friend  was 
General  Hampton,  father  of  the  Confederate 
general  of  same  name. 

Richard  settled  in  old  Blackswamp,  where 
120 


Old  Plantation  Days 

he  married  three  times,  the  last  two  wives  be 
ing  sisters,  both  Roberts.  The  last,  first  mar 
ried  Singleton,  and  at  his  death  our  ancestor. 
By  the  last  marriage  there  were  no  chil 
dren;  by  the  second  marriage  to  Miss  Rob 
ert,  we  are  descended  through  your  father 
Benjamin  Robert  Bostick;  by  the  first  mar 
riage  the  other  Blackswamp  Bosticks  are  de 
scended. 

I  have  not  a  copy  of  the  Bostick  coat  of 
arms,  but  the  motto  is  "  Always  ready  to 
serve,"  bestowed,  or  adopted,  I  presume,  in 
recognition  of  their  martial  spirit  exhibited 
on  many  great  battlefields.  The  Robert  fam 
ily,  of  whom  your  grandmother  was  a  mem 
ber,  settled  in  Sumter.  The  progenitor,  Rev. 
Pierre  Robert,  led  a  colony  of  Huguenot  refu 
gees  from  France.  Many  other  Huguenot 
families  in  the  State  claim  descent  on  mater 
nal  lines  from  him.  He  seems  to  have  been 
121 


Old  Plantation  Days 

a  man  of  wealth  and  ancient  lineage.  I  have 
a  copy  of  the  French  coat  of  arms. 

Your  mother,  who  was  a  Maner,  came  of 
no  less  distinguished  line.  They  were  of 
Welsh  descent,  and  probably  more  remotely 
of  Norman  French  descent,  as  the  progenitor 
was  Lord  de  Maner. 

Grandma's  mother  was  a  May  from  an  old 
Dutch  family.  The  original  May  came  to 
Charleston,  and  founded  the  first  large  im 
porting  house  (tea  chiefly)  in  copartnership 
with  the  famous  Dutchman,  Admiral  Gillon. 

I  presume  you  know,  of  course,  that  your 
great-grandfather,  William  Maner,  and  his 
brother  Samuel  were  both  captains  in  the  fa 
mous  Marion  Brigade  in  the  Revolution. 
Your  grandfather  was  a  captain  at  eighteen 
years  of  age. 

I  may  mention  also,  that  grandma's 
mother,  who  was  a  May,  was  on  her  maternal 
122 


Old  Plantation  Days 

side  a  daughter  of  an  English  Colonel  Staf 
ford.  The  English  Staffords  are  also  of  an 
cient  stock,  I  believe. 

I  am  afraid  the  foregoing  very  meager  ac 
count  of  the  family  connections  will  give  you 
very  little  that  you  do  not  know  already. 
While  I  have  stated  the  main  features  of  the 
family  history,  as  I  know  them,  the  statement 
is  very  general.  If  you  desire  more  of  de 
tail  with  reference  to  any  individual  or  any 
part  of  the  family  history,  I  may  be  able  to 
give  you  a  little  more,  and  will  take  pleasure 
in  answering  any  inquiries  on  this  line.  I 
have  had  to  write  this  very  hastily. 

With  love  from  us  all,  I  remain, 
Affectionately, 

A.  MclvER  BOSTICK. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


MAR  8  2  1967 -8  S 


HAD 


JAW    21986 


CIRC  DEC  17 


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GENERAL  LIBRARY  -U.C.  BERKELEY 


YB  37882 


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